


The Spin of a Coin

by jonius_belonius (Joni_Beloni)



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Love Triangles, M/M, Mike is not a lawyer, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M, Trevor is not a (complete) jerkface, mention of past rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-01-16 12:11:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 44,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1347001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joni_Beloni/pseuds/jonius_belonius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike and Trevor -- it was love at first sight.  Then things got complicated and Mike was left heartbroken and on his own.  </p><p>Mike and Harvey -- it was lust at (almost) first sight.  Then things got complicated and they moved in together.</p><p>So, what happens when Trevor returns to claim what is his?  How will Mike choose between them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was thinking, what if Mike's grandmother also died when he was younger (yeah, more Grammycide-- sorry), and also, what if Trevor wasn't such a complete douche-nozzle? And wouldn't it be fun if Mike, Harvey and Trevor all got together? (Wouldn't it? Wouldn't it???) And this happened.
> 
> (There's a very brief underage portion -- nothing graphic or gross. Unless you find sticky teenage boys who probably smell like sweat, dirty socks and stale Axe gross.)

“You shouldn’t do this.” Mike wriggled his butt backwards into Trevor’s crotch and Trevor responded by tightening his hold around Mike’s waist and pressing his lips to Mike’s neck, just behind his ear.

“Don’t worry, baby. It’s a piece of cake. I’m in, I’m out, and we’re set for a couple of months – more, if we watch our spending.” He nipped at Mike’s earlobe and slid one hand underneath the blankets to grasp Mike’s cock, stroking him slowly, with just enough pressure to make Mike jerk forward and bite back a groan.

“I’m serious,” Mike gasped.“It’s too dangerous, and we’re doing okay now. You found us this place. We’re not starving.”

Trevor’s hand halted, and Mike felt him grow tense behind him. “This dump? Fuck, Mikey. You shouldn’t have to live in a place like this. You deserve better, and after this buy is done, we can afford to get something nice.”

Expelling a frustrated breath, Mike rolled away so he could look Trevor in the eye. “And what about you? What do you deserve? You don’t deserve risking yourself like this.”

Trevor closed the gap between them, leaned close and gave Mike a soft, lingering kiss. “Didn’t I just tell you not to worry? Leave that to me. All you have to do is sit tight and keep studying. We’re going to get you your GED, and then there’s got to be some scholarships you can apply for. With your brain….”

Mike groaned and lay on his back. “I should be working, Trev. Contributing. I turn nineteen next month, and I’m still just as useless as I was two years ago. No one’s looking for me anymore. I’m sure I could find something.”

But then Trevor was over him, pressing his body against Mike’s, and his carefully crafted arguments disintegrated at the feel of all that hard muscle and smooth, hot flesh against him.

“Mike,” Trevor breathed against his cheek, “you’re not useless. You’re perfect. You’re mine. And I take care of what’s mine. Yeah?”

What could Mike say to that? He melted, like he always did with Trevor. And then they were moving together, fitting together, just as they had almost from the start.

**Two Years Ago**

The summer he was sixteen, Mike and his grandmother had a couple of rooms in the basement of the house next to the one owned by the Mason's, who regularly took in foster children. One sweltering afternoon, Mike had just found a shady spot on the brown lawn between the two houses, where he was stretched out on his back reading a book, when he spotted a strange boy in the Mason's backyard. The boy was leaned up against the corner of the house, smoking a cigarette and looking tough and dangerous, like he could snap Mike in two if given the slightest provocation.

Mike spied on the unknown boy for a while, darting furtive glances over the top of his book to admire his thick arms and wide chest, and the way his worn jeans molded to his muscular ass. Finally, the boy caught him staring and strolled closer to glare down at him.

“What are you looking at?” asked the handsome, dark-haired boy, flicking his cigarette butt into the dry grass next to Mike before stamping on it once.

Feeling too exposed and vulnerable on his back, Mike rolled to a sitting position and bent his head, avoiding the boy's gaze and not answering him.

“You live here? Hey, I’m talking to you, Blondie. What’s your name?”

"Mike," he muttered.

The boy was quiet for a minute, and Mike pretended to read, all the while feeling the interested gaze directed down at him as if it was a physical thing, rough and caressing at the same time. Then a sneakered toe prodded his hip, not hard enough to hurt, and Mike glanced to the side, his heart stuttering with excitement and alarm.

"I'm Trevor."

"Okay." Mike finally looked up and his breath caught in his throat at the close-up view of Trevor's denim covered crotch, flat stomach, and lean, muscled arms crossed over his chest. "I..." He swallowed thickly, trying to work enough moisture back into his mouth to get the words out. "I live next door. In the basement. Are you with the Masons?"

A low grunt. "For now."

Mike didn't know what to say to that, so he stared at Trevor's feet. After what seemed like an impossibly awkward silence, Trevor slid down to sit next to Mike, their knees almost touching.

"They're okay," said Trevor, "but I turn eighteen in five months, and then I'm outta here."

"You mean they can throw you out on your own? Just like that?" The thought bothered Mike more than it should, considering he had just met the guy.

Trevor shrugged one shoulder and tugged up a clump of grass, picking it to shreds and tossing the pieces between them. "Pretty much."

"And you can't even stay long enough to finish school?"

The other boy laughed at that. "I don't give a shit about school. It's kinda like -- it doesn't start for another month, and I'm probably already failing all of my classes."

Confused, Mike said, "Wait. That isn't even possible. How could you be -- "

Another short laugh. "It was a joke, Mikey. The point is, I suck at school."

_Mikey_. He liked the way that sounded. He'd never had a nickname before, and hearing Trevor call him that made his insides go warm with pleasure, like they were friends already. He thought carefully about what he was about to say, weighed the pros and cons, and then blurted out, "I could help you."

And just like that the humor faded from Trevor's face, replaced with suspicion and narrowed eyes. "Why would you do that? You don't even know me."

Mike bit his lip and stared down at the gap between their knees. He should tell Trevor to forget it, that he hadn't meant it. But the thought of spending another year isolated and harassed by bullies because he was too skinny and too smart and his clothes too shabby....He searched for and found a sliver of courage and replied, "Because I think maybe we could be friends."

Trevor stared back, clearly not convinced.

"I have a Playstation. It's used, and pretty beat up, but...."

There was no change in Trevor's expression.

Mike gave it one last try. "Do you smoke pot?"

At that, Trevor's face softened and he grinned back at Mike. "Now you're talking, Mikey."

******

That's how it had started. They bonded over weak pot and video games and when school started back up in September, they entered their senior year together. The first time his tormentors from previous years saw that Mike was with Trevor, they'd kept their distance. For that alone, Mike could have fallen for Trevor, but it was more than that. They just _clicked_. Trevor was reckless and carefree and protective, and found Mike's dry wit irresistible. Mike had never laughed so much in his life, at least not since his parents had died.

Their first kiss had been Mike's idea -- or rather, his impulse. They'd been sitting sideways together on his bed, backs against the wall, sharing a liter of Mountain Dew and staring at their paused game. Mike could feel the heat of Trevor's thigh against his own, and his dick was jumping like crazy. He wanted to rut against the other boy, but held himself back. He had figured out the whole gay thing a couple of years earlier, but hadn't yet figured out Trevor. There seemed to be a mutual attraction, but Mike had been scared to act on it, too afraid to screw up this one friendship he'd managed to cultivate.

Trevor leaned over Mike to set the bottle of Mountain Dew on his desk, and when he moved back, his shoulder stayed pressed against Mike's. Mike could have blamed the half joint they'd shared earlier -- perhaps that had been his contingency plan if Trevor freaked out on him -- but Mike wasn't that high, and he knew exactly what he was doing when he turned, angling his head, and brushed his lips against Trevor's.

Immediately, he pulled back, heart pounding, waiting for the anger, or disgust, or whatever Trevor's reaction might be. A couple of frozen moments passed, not more than a half dozen beats of his heart, and then Trevor made a small noise in the back of his throat that sounded like surprise mingled with triumph. He cupped the back of Mike's head, half-painful as his fingers pulled at Mike's hair, and bent down to take possession of Mike's mouth, his own moving hard and hungry and searching, tongue testing and then claiming Mike. Mike opened up and let him in, twining their tongues together in a giddy, wet, heated tangle.

He wasn't aware of them moving, but he found himself on his back, dick achingly hard, feeling Trevor grind his own hardness against his hip. After long minutes with nothing more than the sound of their sloppy, urgent kiss and the soft creak of denim rubbing against denim, Trevor pulled away, panting, eyes dark and shining.

"F-u-u-u-c-k-k, Mikey," he breathed. "I knew it. Don't ask me how I knew it, but when I saw you that first time...." He trailed off, seeming embarrassed all of the sudden by his brief outburst.

"Me too," Mike whispered, understanding exactly what he meant. "God, Trev, I could kiss you for days. And more...." He looked away, knowing he was blushing. "I never, though...you know."

Trevor sat up and sat back against the wall, running a hand through his hair. "Me neither. Well, with girls. One girl."

Disappointment stabbed through Mike and he struggled to sit up, moving away from Trevor a little on the small bed. "Yeah? Did you like it?"

Trevor shrugged, crooking his mouth into a half smile. "It was okay. I mostly did it because we were horny, and alone, and she expected it. I didn't want her though. Not like I want you." He reached over and rubbed a thumb across Mike's cheekbone, then down to his mouth, gently touching his lower lip. "I'd do anything for you, Mikey. You're just so...." He pressed his lips together as if frustrated by his inability to find the right words, then leaned over and kissed Mike again, soft and sweet and much too brief.

******

For a few months after that first kiss, Mike and Trevor didn't progress much further. While Mike's grandmother was at work, they'd engage in long make-out sessions on Mike's bed, sometimes stripping all the way down to their briefs and rubbing frantically together as they kissed and explored each other with sweaty hands until they both came. Afterwards, they lay together, Mike's head resting on Trevor's chest, both struggling to catch their breath. Mike wanted to go further, had thought countless times about taking Trevor into his mouth, or offering up his ass, but he was embarrassed by his lack of experience, and happy enough to let Trevor set the pace.

They celebrated Mike's seventeenth birthday with pot and porn, but Mike's grandmother surprised them by coming home from work early, and they weren't able to experiment any further.

******

Two days after Mike's birthday, he was called into the office at school, where the assistant principal told him, in hushed, sympathetic tones, that Mike's grandmother had suffered a massive stroke at work, and died in the ambulance on the way to the emergency room.

While Mike spent several days nearly catatonic with grief, Trevor hovered nearby, sick with worry for him -- and for them and their future together. When Mike finally surfaced to face the chilling reality that Grammy’s death meant he would surely be taken away from Trevor, they each shoved what they could into their backpacks, and ran.

******

**Present**

Mike paced the tiny apartment, not seeing the flaking paint on the walls or the roach traps in the corners. He didn’t give a damnwhat it looked like, because it was theirs, his and Trevor's, and the place was only temporary, after all. Trevor had promised that they’d move somewhere nicer soon, and Trevor always kept his word, or at least he tried like hell. Mike just wished that Trevor was here now, and that he hadn’t gone out again to meet with the mysterious “associates” who were supposedly their ticket to the good life – or the marginally better life.

Mike was anything but stupid. He knew how Trevor had supported them in the nearly two years since they’d been on their own in the city, with crimes both petty and desperate. He knew the location of the particular neighborhood in Brooklyn where Trevor sold weed and oxy and meth and who knew what else? Mike had even offered to help him, but Trevor had adamantly refused. “You’re better than that, Mikey,” he always insisted. Mike didn’t agree – he thought Trevor was the best person he knew – but in truth the thought of doing the things Trevor did terrified him, and that in turn filled him with shame.

Now, too worried to concentrate like he was supposed to be doing on the study materials for his GED, Mike filled the dented teakettle with water and set it on the hotplate before turning it on. He wasn’t hungry, but Trevor was always telling him he needed to eat more, and sometimes a little tea served to settle his nerves and settle his stomach enough to attempt food.

Footsteps pounded down the hallway, more than one person from the sound of it, and Mike froze, praying they would pass by. They did, but only just. He heard them stop next door and knock loudly. Moments later, shouting erupted, harsh voices arguing about something Mike couldn’t make out. He crept to the door to peer through the peep hole, glimpsing a distorted view of two backs and arms gesticulating wildly. Behind him the kettle shrilled suddenly and he jumped. He hurried the few steps to the hotplate and lifted the kettle from the heat before pouring it over the two used teabags he had saved from breakfast.

The voices outside stopped abruptly. Mike waited for his heart rate to decrease, for his hands to shake a little less, and then carried his mug to the sofa bed that was still open and rumpled from their morning sex. Setting the mug on the floor, he pulled up his legs to hug his knees and picked up the cheap cell phone from where it nestled in the sheets. He checked the screen, although he would have heard it ring if Trevor had called. He debated calling Trevor, just to see how the meeting was going, but he’d promised he wouldn’t ever use the phone, except in case of emergency. His own stupid fear and weakness could hardly be classified as an emergency. Rather, it was an everyday nuisance.

Sighing, he let the phone drop back onto the lumpy mattress and stretched out on his side, eyes wide and unfocused. He needed to be stronger than this. Trevor had been strong for him for so long and he owed the same in return.

Mike considered his cooling mug of tea, and his stomach gave a slight spasm. He grimaced, ready to come out of his skin with worry for Trevor. He picked up the phone again, and as if his thoughts and wishes had somehow activated it, the phone gave a shrill ring that made him jump, nearly dropping it. The caller information was blocked, but nobody besides Trevor had his number.

"Trev?" he answered it, voice shaking.

"Mikey?” He could hear the sharp edge of panic in Trevor’s voice. “Shit. Baby, I'm so sorry. It was a fucking set up. Those assholes sent me straight to the cops with a suitcase filled with their shit."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at the police station. They're about to take me to booking."

Mike started to shake harder, unable to understand or believe what Trevor was telling him. "Wait. You get an attorney, right? Where are they taking you? What can I do?"

"Calm down, baby. You stay where you are. Stay out of this. There's some cash under the mattress. Should last you at least a couple of weeks. I'm sorry. Looks like you're gonna have to find a job after all. You can do it, though.”

"No. No I can’t. Not without you here. You’ve got to get out of there. Tell them it was a mistake."

“Ssh. I don’t have much time. Listen to me. I’m going to make the best deal I can. It’s my first offense, so it should only be a couple of years. Stay out of trouble until I get out. And keep studying. Be good for me.”

“Trevor….”

"Mikey. I've got to go now. Promise me. Promise you’ll make me proud of you.”

Mike was crying now, trying not to let Trevor hear him, and it was a struggle to get any words past his tight throat. “I love you Trevor,” he whispered.

If Trevor heard him, or said anything in response, Mike never knew. The line went dead, and he was alone, wondering how he would ever make it on his own.

**Five Years Later**

Harvey stood in the crowded room, pretending to be interested in what Jessica was saying, while scanning the other gala attendees for anyone new and interesting and challenging. All he saw were the usual crop of wealthy, successful phonies that seemed to show up at every party and charity event in town, dropping in like well-coiffed, overdressed flies on a corpse.

“Harvey, I could swear you haven’t heard one word I’ve said.”

He returned his attention to his boss. “Sure I did. Chilton. Tomorrow. Harvard douches. Hold my nose and choose one. Does that about sum it up?”

She shook her head, smiling gently. “Honestly, you make it sound like the worst thing in the world. Aren’t you even a little bit happy? I just made you a senior partner, and you get to choose a bright young legal mind to help make your life easier.”

He knew she was right. This was what he’d worked so hard for all these years. Why then, did he feel so disconnected, so…hollow? He forced a smile to his face. “How about I go get us some real drinks?”

Jessica lifted her half-full flute of champagne. “I’ll stick with this, but you go ahead. I see some people I need to talk to.”

He watched her move through the crowd, admiring her gorgeous figure in the clinging, dove grey dress. Then he turned toward the corner of the room where the bar was set up and fought his way through clumps of lawyers and clients and politicians until he reached his goal. He slid onto a bar stool and waited while the slim bartender finished mixing a complicated looking drink and set it on a tray with several others. A fidgeting waitress grabbed the tray and swept off back into the crowd. Finally, the young man turned to face Harvey.

“Yes, sir? What can I get you?”

“Your most expensive Scotch,” he replied absently, taking a moment to study the young man in front of him. He looked young, almost too young to be serving drinks. He was slender, nearly Harvey’s height, with shaggy dark blond hair, and eyes a startlingly clear pale blue. The young man poured Harvey’s drink with an assurance that spoke of experience, and set it down in front of him on a paper coaster. Harvey raised his glass and took a sip, savoring the complex combination of flavors. He nodded appreciatively. “Not bad. What is that?”

“Balvenie 30.” He moved away as a couple of guests arrived at the bar.

Harvey enjoyed his unexpectedly spectacular drink, while watching the bartender in action. He had an engaging smile and a warm, professional manner. When he squatted to retrieve more clean glasses, Harvey also noticed his nice, tight ass. Interest piqued, he kept half an eye on the boy until the crowd had thinned out and they had relative privacy once more.

“What’s your name?” Not the most inventive opening line, but effective.

The boy was wiping the bar top with a damp cloth, and paused for a fraction of a second before continuing his motion. “Mike,” he said flatly, and then smiled politely, not quite meeting Harvey’s eye.

“Well, Mike. My name is Harvey, and I have to say, you pour a mean drink.” He gave Mike his most charming smile.

In return, he received another politely bland look, this one tinged with disbelief. “I opened the bottle and poured it in the glass. Not exactly brain surgery.”

Harvey polished off his drink and pushed the empty glass toward Mike. “Yeah? Maybe you could show me one more time.”

Looking as if he was only just restraining himself from rolling his eyes, Mike reached for the bottle of Balvenie 30 and poured a measure into Harvey’s glass before setting the bottle on the bar with a dull thunk. Harvey’s hand shot out to grab Mike’s wrist. There was a brief tug-of-war until Mike stopped struggling and simply stared at Harvey, expression blank.

“Here’s the thing, Mike,” Harvey murmured, “I’m really not one to beat around the bush. I think you’re stunning, and I’d love to take you home and fuck that perfect little ass of yours until you scream for mercy.”

“Sir – ”

“Mmm…love it when they call me that. Hold that thought, pretty boy, and when I get you home – ”

Mike pulled his hand away with a sharp jerk. “No,” he said, final and decisive, and moved away to serve another guest.

Surprised, Harvey watched Mike for perhaps another half a minute, then shrugged, tossed back the rest of his drink, and left, deciding to hit up a bar that rarely failed to yield him a willing partner for the night. To hell with pretty, blue-eyed bartenders who didn’t know what they were missing.

******

Cracking an eye open to view the clock on his nightstand, Mike groaned, indulging in a rare moment of self-pity. Too fucking early. The bartending gig had run late, his bike had a flat, and he hadn’t made it home to Brooklyn until nearly 3 a.m. Now he needed to get his ass out of bed before Jason followed through on his threat to fire him. Like he could find another bike messenger who could navigate his way through the city like Mike, and who never forgot an address.

_I’d love to take you home and fuck that perfect little ass._

His eyes came fully open and he shook his head in annoyance. Why was he even thinking about that creeper from last night? That handsome creeper whose touch made Mike shiver.... But who just propositions someone like that? _Boom. Hello._ _Wanna_ _fuck?_

He rolled out of bed and stood up, still shaking his head in disbelief. But as he showered and dried off and scraped a razor over his chin, he couldn’t get the encounter out of his mind. Maybe he should have….

It wasn’t like Trevor was in the picture any longer. When he’d gotten out of prison ten months ago he’d somehow managed to get Mike’s phone number, but had only used it to leave a terse voicemail letting him know that he was leaving town and that Mike should just forget about him.

Familiar anger surged through Mike at the memory. He’d been so good for Trevor. He’d waited for him. He’d gotten his GED like he promised, and no, he hadn’t applied at any colleges yet, but he’d been a little busy working two and sometimes three jobs to get by. And he hadn’t cheated on him, not even once – not that he exactly had time for that kind of thing.

He was done pining for Trevor, done scanning the street for his face, done obsessively checking his phone for messages that were never going to come. And maybe it was past time that he was allowed something other than his own hand for relief.

Admit it, he told himself: Trevor was a fading dream from a time that was over and done with. End of story. Time to grow up and move on.

So why did he still feel like crying every time he considered hooking up with anyone else?

The trick, he decided as he dressed and hauled his bike downstairs, was to make it as meaningless as possible. Let some stranger at a bar fuck you, but don’t let your heart get involved. He could do that, right? He mounted the bike and pushed off from the curb, heading back for another day of delivering documents to the lawyers and bankers and other assorted suits-wearing assholes of Manhattan.

******

Harvey caught the gob of mustard on his napkin before it made its way to his lapel. He popped the last bite of hotdog into his mouth, wiped his fingers clean, and tossed the crumpled napkin the two feet to the trash can. Lunch accomplished, he turned to locate an unoccupied taxi, but instead found a pair of eyes trained on him, and froze.

Mike. The kid from last night. Today he was dressed in bike shorts, a Spiderman t-shirt, with a bulging messenger bag hanging on his back. He stood next to a bike that was chained to a metal post, and he was staring at Harvey as if he was trying to laser a hole in his skull. Harvey knew he should ignore him, turn away, and continue on to his interviews at the Chilton. He knew all that, but instead his legs were moving in long strides, taking him to stand in front of Mike.

“Hi. This is quite the coincidence. You’re not still mad at me, are you?”

Mike blinked and shook his head rapidly. “No. I mean, I wasn’t mad last night. You just surprised me. Took my off guard.”

“I’m good at that.” God, those bike shorts. The kid had to have the sexiest thigh muscles Harvey had seen in a long time. “So…tell me you changed your mind.”

He watched Mike swallow, and found his obvious nervousness arousing. He could have some fun with this one.

“Yeah,” Mike said. “I thought it over and...we could…do what you said last night. You know, if you still want to.”

Harvey frowned, pretending to consider it. “Refresh my memory. What did I say?”

“Ah.” Mike blushed and shifted his feet. He bit his lip and looked Harvey straight in the eye. “That I have a perfect ass. And you wanted to, er, fuck it until I screamed for…for mercy.” He blushed even more deeply, but didn’t look away.

Harvey grinned approvingly. “Nice memory you’ve got there.”

A shrug, followed by silence. The kid seemed to have come to the end of his courage.

Harvey glanced at his watch, thinking quickly. He narrowed his eyes. “You doing anything tonight?” he asked.

“Uh. What? I mean, no. Tonight works for me.”

“You know where the Chilton Hotel is?”

“Sure.”

“Well, I’m conducting interviews there all afternoon. What I’d like you to do is get us a room, and be ready for me by 6:00. Once you check in, text me the room number.” He handed Mike one of his business cards.

Mike stared at the card for a second and scratched behind one ear. “Yeah, okay. But….”

“But?”

“It’s just….” He took a deep breath. “I’m a bike messenger. I can’t afford a room at the Chilton.”

Harvey let his gaze travel over Mike’s body, and came to a decision. He knew he was being reckless, but he didn’t want to have to wait any longer than necessary to take possession of this delectable boy. “Can I trust you?”

“Can you…uh, sure.”

“Then take this.” Harvey pulled a credit card from his wallet and held it out to Mike.

The boy took it with obvious reluctance. “You don’t have to….I can pay half. I think.”

Harvey brushed aside his objections. “Don’t be stupid. I can afford it. You can’t. And don't even think about stealing that card.”

Judging by Mike’s expression, he was starting to have second thoughts. Harvey stepped closer, let one hand rest on Mike’s shoulder, and whispered in his ear, “This works better if you just do what I tell you to do. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Someone to take care of you? I’ll take such good care of you, baby. You have no idea.”

Mike’s eyes had fluttered shut, and he drew in gulping breaths of air. “O-okay,” he stuttered. “I’ll text you the room number.”

Harvey patted him on the shoulder. “Good boy.” And he left Mike standing there holding his credit card.

******

Smug. Arrogant. Braggart.

Those were just a few of the words buzzing around in Mike’s head as he waited in room 708 at the Chilton Hotel. He’d been sure the desk clerk would give him trouble about the credit card, but apparently Harvey had left word with him. Judging by the looks he gave Mike, the clerk must have known exactly what Mike was there for. And that had made him feel ashamed and dirty and naughty and almost giddy with arousal.

He didn’t even think of backing out. He’d made his mind up that he was going to get laid – for the first time in five fucking years – and his body was primed and ready to play. Once he checked in and texted Harvey, he showered, arranged himself nakedly on the bed, put his briefs back on, decided to redress completely, and finally stripped back down to his briefs and donned one of the fluffy white robes provided by the hotel.

As he sat cross-legged on the bed and watched the digital clock click over to 6:00, he realized that he hadn’t thought to buy condoms or lube. Ugh. How stupid could he be? He was about to text Harvey again when he heard a knock at the door. He breathed into his palm to check his breath, wishing he had a mint, and went to open the door.

Harvey held a bottle of champagne in one hand, and a brown paper bag in the other. “Why aren’t you naked?” he asked.

“Uh. I – ”

“I’m joking.” Harvey set the bottle and bag on the nightstand and started stripping methodically out of his suit, folding and hanging everything neatly while Mike watched.

“I forgot,” Mike said, “you know, the supplies?”

“Figured you would. Don’t worry, I took care of it.” Harvey was down to his boxer briefs, and he advanced on Mike, his erection already tenting the thin black cotton. He untied the belt of Mike’s robe, and pushed the fluffy terrycloth down, letting it slide to the floor. “Jesus,” he breathed. “Look at you.” He grabbed Mike’s ass, pulled him close so their groins were snug together and Mike could feel every intimidating inch of him. Harvey dropped his lips to Mike’s shoulder and just held him. “You feel good.”

Mike couldn’t have agreed more. He felt wonderful in Harvey’s arms. He hugged Harvey back with a contented hum. Then he realized what was doing and let go. He hadn’t come here for hugs. “Um. How do you want me?”

Harvey held him a moment longer before straightening up. “Let’s have some champagne first.”

Mike shrugged. He wasn’t much of a drinker, but right now he could certainly use the liquid courage. He perched on the edge of the bed and watched as Harvey expertly popped the cork, unwrapped two glasses provided by the hotel, and poured them each a portion. Harvey stretched out on the bed, back propped up by the headboard, and eyed Mike over the top of his glass as he sipped.

Mike tried a taste of champagne, decided he liked it, and drank some more. The silence was making him nervous, so he asked, "Did you find someone?"

"What?" Harvey tore his gaze from Mike's body to meet his eyes.

"You said you were interviewing people. Did you find someone to hire?"

"Oh. Yeah." He laughed. "Can't even remember his name now."

Mike arched one brow. "Must be pretty exceptional."

Harvey shrugged. "They all were. All the candidates. But so very, very dull."

Finishing off his glass, Mike eyed the bottle, debating whether or not he wanted more. He licked his lips, chasing the taste, but set his glass on the nightstand and shifted around so he was lying on his side, facing Harvey, head propped on one hand. "So, what are you? A banker?"

"How dare you," Harvey said, voice mild.

"Ah. Must be a lawyer, then."

Harvey didn't reply, but he didn't deny it either. He handed Mike his empty glass. "Put that out of the way," he said, which was the only warning Mike had. As soon as Mike set the glass on the nightstand, in one smooth movement Harvey rolled on top of him and thrust a hand into his briefs. Dark eyes watching Mike's face, he stroked his hard cock, humming in approval and amusement. "Were you thinking of this all afternoon? God knows I was." His hot hand stroked and squeezed and then before Mike knew what was happening, he yanked Mike's briefs down and off. "Get on your hands and knees," Harvey ordered, and Mike didn't think or hesitate, just scrambled to turn over and get into position.

He could hear Harvey behind him, his breaths deep and slow and loud. One hand ran up Mike's inner thigh, the edge of a palm brushing between his ass cheeks. Then both hands caressed his ass, separating the cheeks. A warm breath gusted over his hole and he flinched and then sighed softly. Harvey kissed up his spine, legs bracketing Mike's as he humped gently against him. His cool hands moved and slid over Mike, touching and testing, as if getting the lay of the land. Mike closed his eyes, arching and shifting to get more of Harvey's touch. It had been too long since he'd had this sort of skin on skin contact, and he was shaking with the need for more.

Harvey moved away, and Mike heard the sounds of paper crackling, and then a few soft little clicks. He jumped when something cold touched his hole. A wet finger breached him, pushing in with careful, steady pressure.

"Christ, kid. You're so tight. Please tell me you're not a virgin."

Mike blushed, gave a strained laugh and glanced over his shoulder. "Would that be such a bad thing? But no, it's just been a while."

A really, really, fucking long while. And it had only been Trevor who had touched him before. Only Trevor who had..... _Ah, fuck._ He held in a groan, shut his eyes at the exquisite pain morphing into insane pleasure as two -- three? -- fingers filled and stretched him. He shifted back to meet Harvey's exploring digits, felt Harvey's free hand press down on his lower back, a wordless instruction for him to hold still and let Harvey play with him as he chose.

Mike widened his knees and dropped to his elbows, resting his head on his arms. He couldn't stop the frantic little hip jerks as Harvey worked him and prepared him with a patience that might have surprised Mike if he'd been capable of coherent thought at that moment.

"How's that feel?" Harvey murmured. "You like that?" One hand came underneath Mike to pinch a nipple. He groaned and flung his head back. Fingers tightened on his hard nub as the fingers on Harvey's other hand shifted inside him, angling to brush against his prostate. Mike's groan turned into a hoarse mewl, mingling with Harvey's filthy chuckle. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard," he whispered in Mike's ear.

"Then do it now," Mike gasped, and whimpered when Harvey's fingers pulled out of him, leaving him empty and wanting. "Harvey...." he started to whine, but stopped when he felt himself being rolled to his back. He opened his eyes to find a hot, dark gaze boring into him.

"I want to see your face," Harvey grated. He was naked, and his hands werebusy with condom and lube to,preparing himself, and that was so... _hot_ , Mike decided. He touched himself as he watched Harvey, slow, easy strokes so he wouldn’t come too soon. "Uh uh," Harvey chided. "No touching. Here, hold your legs like this." He grasped Mike behind the knees and bent his legs up and back, nodding with satisfaction when Mike reached up to hold himself in position. He felt exposed and dirty and ready to explode from the lust and need coursing through him.

Harvey, it seemed, preferred to waste time enjoying the view, leisurely stroking his own cock, while Mike wasn't allowed to touch. "Please," Mike whispered.

"Please? Please what?"

"Please fuck me. Need you in me."

"I do like the way you beg, sweetheart. All right. Ssh. Don't worry. I'm going to make you feel good." He leaned over Mike, lined himself up, and pressed the head of his cock past the ring of muscle. "Relax. Breathe. Keep your eyes on mine, beautiful."

Mike did everything Harvey asked of him, and found himself lost in a dark gaze filled with an intoxicating combination of hot arousal and sweet concern. Mike's resistance melted away, his body accepting Harvey. He held his legs open wide and let Harvey thrust into him and fill him until he fought back tears, because it felt so damn good and he didn't know why he had denied himself this for so long. His head dropped back, neck arching, and he bit his lower lip to hold back the sounds trying to force themselves up and out of his throat.

"Let me hear you," Harvey grunted, leaning closer and shifting to a higher gear, hips speeding up even as he took possession of Mike's cock and started jacking him off with exquisite pressure and pace.

Mike squeezed out one more desperate, muffled groan, and then Harvey changed the angle of his attack, hitting Mike's prostate, and every muscle locked up as he howled and came over Harvey's hand and his own stomach. As he shook and shivered through his aftershocks, Harvey hit high gear, moving like a jackhammer, slamming into Mike for endless minutes before freezing above Mike, face contorted with the intensity of his orgasm, sweat sliding down his temples and his smooth chest. He collapsed onto Mike with a growl, clutching him in a viselike grip. Mike's legs fell to the bed and he wrapped his arms around Harvey's back, both hearing and feeling his gasping breaths against his neck.

******

After Harvey cleaned them up a little, he sat on the edge of the bed, one hand on Mike's thigh, watching, amused, the boy's losing struggle to keep his eyes open. Now was when he would normally take his leave, tell the kid to keep the room for the night, while Harvey headed home to his own bed. He opened his mouth to say his goodbyes, but Mike surprised him by speaking first.

"You'll stay the night, won't you?" And then he blushed, and how adorable was that? He looked well-fucked and debauched, and still managed an endearing sort of innocence. All the more reason for Harvey to walk away. Mike ran a coaxing hand down Harvey's back. "You could fuck me again, when you're ready to go again. And I'll wake you up with a morning blow job. I used to have a talented mouth."

Harvey swung his legs up onto the bed and snugged himself up next to Mike, because who was he kidding? He wasn't going anywhere. "Used to?"

Another blush, flooding through all that pretty pale skin. "Been a while."

Harvey laughed lightly and kissed Mike's shoulder. "Were you in a monastery or something?"

Mike fidgeted, his mouth twitching in apparent embarrassment. "No, I....my boyfriend was locked up for a few years. Then as soon as he got out, he dumped me."

"Ouch. How long was he locked up?"

"Four years andthree months."

And he'd waited for him, been faithful all that time. Harvey knew from bitter experience that that sort of loyalty was rare. He stroked a hand through Mike's hair, fingers lightly massaging his scalp. "He must have been pretty special for you to wait that long."

Mike sighed deeply and rolled to his back, staring up at the ceiling. "I thought he was. Special, that is. Trevor....he....we went through a lot together. Without him, I would have been alone. Alone and weak and pathetic." He gave a rough sounding laugh. "He took care of me."

Harvey planted a series of quick, soft kisses on Mike's shoulder and neck and throat, refusing to acknowledge or dissect the sudden tenderness that filled him for this pretty young man. "I'm sorry he hurt you like that. But you turned out to be pretty strong after all, didn't you?"

Mike reared back so he could fix Harvey with an incredulous look. "Strong? Me? Hardly. I'm afraid all the time...." He blushed again, and this time it wasn't cute, and Harvey's insides twisted a little with the unfamiliar sensation of sympathy.

He pulled Mike on top of him and held him tightly, wrapped up in his arms. "Sweetheart," he murmured, "we're all scared of something. Sometimes the best solution is to find someone to hold onto for a while."

Mike snuggled closer. "Does that mean you'll stay with me tonight?"

Harvey had a strange sensation, a moment of disequilibrium or vertigo. He was Harvey fucking Specter, best closer in New York, and all around ruthless prick. What the hell was he doing getting cozy with this sweet kid? But he nodded and kissed Mike's forehead. "Of course," he murmured, and when Mike relaxed against him, the surge of protectiveness that shot through him was every bit as fierce as the orgasm that had ripped through him earlier.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Mike made good on his offer in the morning. Harvey awoke to the sensation of hot, wet suction working him underneath the covers. He lifted his head and carefully folded back the sheet and blanket to find Mike bent over at his side, head in Harvey’s lap, hair rumpled and messy. Harvey let out a sleepy, pleased moan and shifted his hips up. Mike adjusted his angle and took him all the way in. He peered at Harvey’s face up the length of his torso, blue eyes shining in the dim light of the hotel room, lips stretched around Harvey’s cock.

Harvey dropped his head back to the pillow and reached one hand to caress Mike’s head. “Yeah, that’s it,” he encouraged, not that any encouragement was needed. Mike might be out of practice, but his excellent memory apparently extended to the how-to’s of giving a wickedly efficient blowjob. His lips and tongue and throat – joined every so often by a hint of teeth – worked together in the concerted sensual surprise attack, until Harvey couldn’t stop himself from using both hands to hold Mike’s head in place while he thrust up roughly into the wet, constricting heat.

At first, Mike took it, but after a minute or so, he made a wordless sound of protest in his throat and pushed Harvey’s hips to the mattress and held them there. Harvey might have objected, might have flipped Mike onto his back and fucked his sweet mouth until he choked on Harvey’s cock, but Mike was bobbing and slurping so perfectly and with such dedication and energy that Harvey ceded control, thinking, _just this once._

Mike brought him to the edge several times, seeming to know just how far he could push before pulling nearly all the way off, suckling and licking the head of Harvey’s cock like a lollipop, playing with his balls, teasing his hole, before repeating the procedure. Any other time, Harvey would have gladly let him keep it up indefinitely, just to see how much stamina Mike possessed. He needed to get going, however, to get home and change so he could make it to work at a reasonable hour. He grabbed Mike’s hair, gave it a brisk tug, and demanded, “Get me off now, sweetheart, or I’ll leave you here and take care of it myself.”

He had no intention of following through on his threat, but it had the desired effect. Mike swallowed him to the root, continued swallowing so that his throat convulsed around Harvey's cock, and then he hummed. That did it, sending Harvey over the edge with a harsh yell. Mike pulled back slightly and kept the head of Harvey’s cock in his mouth, swallowing contentedly while Harvey shook with the intensity of his orgasm. After Harvey gave one last shudder, Mike let his spent cock slide from his mouth, and looked up at Harvey with an impossibly sultry look in his eyes, licked his lips and smiled. For a moment, Harvey couldn’t tear his gaze away from him.

He gave himself a mental shake. This was a hookup, and the hookup was now officially over. He smiled back at Mike, and spoke even as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up to gather his clothes. “Well done. Congratulations. You’ve still got it.”

Harvey ignored Mike until he was dressed and holding his jacket. Shoving his tie in one of its pockets, he looked into the mirror and saw Mike behind him, stroking himself idly, appearing neglected and a little forlorn. _Oh…right._ Mike had been so preoccupied pleasing Harvey that he hadn’t gotten off. Harvey wished he had time to rectify that properly, but a glance at his watch told him he was already running late. He thought for a minute.

“Mike, that was spectacular,” he said, meeting Mike’s eyes in the mirror. “I wish I could return the favor, but there isn’t time.” He shrugged into his suit jacket and moved to lean against the door, arms crossed. “But I’d love to see you come one more time.”

Mike blushed. “You want me to….?”

“Yeah. Jack yourself off for me. Make it quick. Give me something to think about in all of my boring meetings today.”

“Okay,” Mike murmured, and rose to his knees.

Sitting back on his heels, Mike began to stroke himself. Across the room, Harvey could hear his breathing begin to speed up and become erratic. Mike’s hand moved faster, the other reached down to play with his balls, and he closed his eyes and tipped his head, arching his back. Harvey reached behind himself for the doorknob, started to turn it, meaning to sneak out while Mike was focused on chasing his orgasm, but stopped to listen to the frantic, breathy sounds coming from Mike. He glanced again at his watch, then adjusted his cock, which should be comatose by now, but was showing renewed signs of interest at Mike’s performance.

"Fuck your fingers," Harvey ordered.

Mike complied, biting his lip. He ground down onto his fingers, hips angling and jerking, his other hand moving in a blur on his cock, and Harvey was perhaps two seconds away from tearing off his clothes and joining Mike on the bed when the young man tensed, froze, and gave a surprised sounding yell as he came messily on his belly and chest.

A sound escaped from Harvey, as if someone had given his a swift, hard punch to the gut. He turned the doorknob the rest of the way, but waited until Mike opened his eyes and gave Harvey a shy smile.

“Beautiful,” Harvey murmured. "Thank you, Mike." He pushed the door open and exited, closing the door soundlessly behind him.

 

******

 

Mike couldn’t believe that Harvey had walked out on him, left just like that. And, “Thank you”? What was that? He brooded while he showered and got dressed, working himself up into a fit of self-pitying pique over Harvey’s abrupt departure. Mike had brought his work clothes with him, and changed into bike shorts and a Captain America t-shirt while he mulled over a selection of insults cutting enough to wound even Harvey Specter, if Mike ever saw him again.

Pedaling through the tangle of morning traffic, Mike calmed down enough to remind himself that this was supposed to be a once only thing – one night and walk away, no strings. What had he expected, that Harvey would fall at his feet and proclaim his undying love? And what if he had? That’s what Trevor had done, more than once, and where was he now?

Sudden tears pricked his eyes, blurring his vision, and he was forced to pull off the street and glide to a stop between two buildings, out of the way of foot traffic. How could he have believed that tears for Trevor were behind him? Why hadn’t he realized that spending the night with another man would still feel like cheating, even though what he’d had with Trevor was dead, gone and buried?

He wiped angrily at the pointless tears. Fuck Trevor, anyway. Mike deserved a medal for how faithful he’d been to Trevor, how committed he’d stayed to the dream of a life with him. He shut his eyes and let memories of last night fill his thoughts, washing away lingering grief and regrets for what might have been, and replacing them with images of Harvey kissing his neck, and pinning his hips to the mattress while he pounded into him until Mike came so hard he couldn’t think straight.

By the time his cell phone trilled, and Jason sent him out on his first pickup of the day, Mike’s good mood was restored, because he’d had himself some hot, juicy, all night long sexual shenanigans, and he felt damn fine and didn't even mind how sore his ass felt as he maneuvered his bike through traffic.

The truth was, he couldn't have hoped for a better lover than Harvey Specter. The man had known precisely how to touch and tease Mike, to send him flying and make him scream, just like he'd promised he would do. More than anything, Mike had loved the way Harvey took control of him, and the way he'd held him close afterwards. Everything about Harvey had made Mike feel desired and safe in ways he hadn't felt since Trevor left.

Part of him was proud that he'd finally found the courage to move on, but another, greedy part of him wished that he could have more with Harvey than that one night. Since that wasn't possible, he needed to accept it for what it was and be grateful.

When he pedaled home to Brooklyn that night, he felt lighter than he had in years. He entered his apartment with a smile on his face, and his mind was already planning and plotting places to go to meet men. He realized it might take a while to work up his nerve for the next hookup, but at least he no longer felt destined to a lifetime of bitterness, fear and celibacy, and that was definitely progress.

 

******

 

Harvey could not stop thinking about Mike. The whole night had been damn near perfect. Mike had been so sweet and hot, eagerly following every instruction Harvey gave him, and responding so beautifully. Several times a day, he found himself concocting plans for what he wanted to do with Mike next time...and every time Harvey forcefully reminded himself that it was only a one night thing.

He held out for eight days, trying to redirect his attention to his cases, and to his new associate, Will, or Bill or whatever it was he'd asked to be called. It was difficult to focus, however, when he went around half-hard all day, and was plagued with elaborate, erotic fantasies of Mike. Finally, he gave in to what seemed like the inevitable, and late Friday afternoon he send Mike a short text: _Busy tonight?_

Ten minutes later, he received a reply: _Not anymore. When and where?_

The "not anymore" threw him a little. Had Mike already met someone else? He didn't like the way that possibility made him feel, and had to remind himself that this didn't count as Mike being unfaithful, since there was no plausible way Harvey could make the case that they were in a relationship, or had an understanding of any sort whatsoever. Besides, Mike could have simply been scheduled for another bartending job, and if he'd canceled that for Harvey -- or canceled a date -- that could only be counted as a win.

Harvey texted Mike back with his home address and the instruction: _6:30 -- I'll bring dinner._

When Mike's confirming text took only seconds to arrive, Harvey broke into a grin. It was a struggle to concentrate as he finished up a few things that couldn't wait for Monday, because he was already imagining Mike in his bed, helpless and needy and begging for release.

 

******

 

Mike had come close to crashing his bike when he received Harvey's text. He had been planning to go out for drinks after work with some of his fellow bike messengers to celebrate a birthday, but those plans didn't stand a chance when held up against the prospect of another night with Harvey Specter. One quick phone call was all it took to blow off his co-workers.

He arrived at Harvey's place nearly half an hour late, since he had decided to rush home to shower and change first. He splurged on a cab, but traffic had been predictably awful on a Friday evening. The building doorman was expecting him, and he rode the elevator up to Harvey's condo with a giddy mix of nerves and arousal buzzing inside of him. He knocked on Harvey's door and seconds later he found himself dragged inside, his back shoved up against the closed door.

"You're late," Harvey breathed into his hair, pressing his body to Mike's. "I thought you'd changed your mind."

Harvey cupped his ass, pulling him close to feel his obvious arousal. Too overwhelmed to properly censor his words, Mike gasped, "No. I wouldn't. I never expected you to hear from you again, but I didn't stop hoping."

Harvey lifted his head and held Mike's gaze with his own dark, searching one. For a second, Mike thought he was going to say something, to answer Mike's rash declaration with one of his own. Instead, he leaned in and captured Mike's lips in a gentle kiss. His mouth moved over Mike's, tongue licking at Mike's lips until he opened up and welcomed Harvey in.

Mike's head swam at the intensity of the kiss. Harvey's lips and tongue communicated something so utterly tender and at the same time fiercely possessive, that Mike was taken off guard. He moaned in the back of his throat and clutched Harvey's shoulders to keep himself upright. When he started to think he might lose consciousness from lack of air, Harvey pulled back, staring at Mike with a look that Mike couldn't interpret -- surprise, maybe? He ran the back of one hand down the side of Mike's face, gave him another quick kiss, and grabbed his hand, dragging him away from the door.

"We'll eat later," he informed Mike. Left unspoken was his obvious need to have his hands on Mike _now_. Mike had no objections to that plan.

In Harvey's bedroom, Mike had a brief impression of a large bed, a tastefully decorated space, and then Harvey was kissing him again, walking him backwards toward the bed. Mike shed his coat and started to drag his t-shirt over his head.

"No," said Harvey. "I want to undress you."

Mike shivered at the tone of command in Harvey's voice. He swallowed hard, nodding. Harvey kissed his mouth, and then his neck, hands travelling underneath Mike's shirt to reacquaint themselves with his contours. Mike closed his eyes, savoring every touch. He raised his arms when Harvey prompted him, listening to the whisper of cotton sliding over his head. Harvey turned him so that his back was to Harvey, molding himself to Mike and spending long minutes playing with his nipples and marking his neck and shoulders with his mouth, while his hard length ground into Mike’s ass.

When Mike tried to reach back in search of some part of Harvey to touch, the other man captured his wrists in on hand and held them at the small of Mike's back, making him shiver. Harvey unfastened Mike's jeans and shoved them down just past his hips. His free hand skimmed down Mike's chest and stomach, and brushed over the front of his briefs, palming his cock through the thin cotton. Mike grunted and thrust forward, but Harvey whispered in his ear, "Don't move," and Mike froze, holding himself as still as he could.

Harvey continued stroking him lightly through his briefs, increasing the pressure on Mike's wrists and shoulders with his other hand, until Mike thought he might lose his mind if Harvey didn't give him more. "Harvey...." he moaned.

"What do you want?"

"Touch me," Mike panted. "Fuck me. Please."

"What do you mean? I am touching you."

Was Harvey seriously teasing him?

"M-more," he begged. "Touch my cock."

Harvey traced one finger up Mike's hard length to where the head peeked out from the top of his briefs. He lightly brushed the damp slit with his finger and Mike groaned in frustration.

Harvey laughed, sounding short of breath. "You make the most gorgeous noises," he murmured in Mike's ear. He gave Mike a light shove. "Go on. Get on the bed. On your back."

When Mike was in position, Harvey tugged off his shoes and socks before dragging his jeans and briefs down and off. Then Harvey undressed slowly, maintaining eye contact with Mike. When he was finally naked, Mike stared openly, enjoying the sight of his strong shoulders and chest, his dark, hard nipples and bobbing cock. Harvey considered him for a moment in return, his gaze traveling up and down Mike's body. He knelt one knee on the bed by Mike's head. "Give me your hands," he said.

Mike hesitated, and then stretched his arms over his head. Harvey moved them so that one wrist was crossed over the other.

"How does that feel?" he asked Mike.

He wasn't sure how to answer. He felt...controlled. And he liked it. Is that what Harvey wanted to hear? "You're gonna fuck me, right?"

"I asked you a question."

"It feels good," Mike admitted. "Anything you want to do feels good."

"Did your boyfriend ever tie you up, Mike?"

That was out of left field. Mike didn't care to think about Trevor. Not now. "No," he managed, his voice cracking on the word. Trevor and he had never done anything like that, but Mike's cock seemed to like the idea, twitching and growing harder, if that was even possible.

Harvey caressed Mike's hipbone. "Did he ever spank you? Or use toys to play with you?"

Mike gave an involuntary upward jerk. "No. He just...." He licked his lips again. "He liked to fuck me hard and rough. I liked that. But we never did anything...we never did _that._ "

"What do you think, Mike? Does the thought excite you?" He trailed a finger across Mike's lower belly and down the crease between thigh and groin, causing him to wriggle restlessly. When Harvey gave a hard pinch to Mike's sensitive flesh, he jerked up again and moaned. "Does the way I'm touching you excite you?"

_Everything about you excites me,_ he wanted to say, but the words stuck in his throat. So he nodded. "Yeah," he forced out.

"Then tell me." Harvey ran his teasing finger up and down the length of Mike's cock. When Mike didn't give him an immediate answer, he rolled him over onto his front and took hold of Mike's arms, forcing them back, crossing his wrists at the small of his back and holding them there. "How does this make you feel?"

Mike felt like he might hyperventilate. "I like it," he whispered.

"What else? Mike?"

He shut his eyes, feeling himself blush. "I...when you were pinching my nipples, I wished you would do it harder."

"I see." Harvey let go of his wrists and they fell to the bed. Mike gave Harvey a questioning look over his shoulder, and found himself being regarded with a thoughtful, hooded stare. "Let's try something," said Harvey. "Get up on your knees. Stretch your arms in front of you with your palms clasped together. Comfortable? Good. Now don't move from that position. Stay as still as you can. Understand?"

Mike started to nod and then froze. "Yes," he whispered.

"That's good, sweetheart."

Mike heard Harvey moving behind him. A drawer opened and closed. There was a soft click -- the container of lube, he guessed. A wet finger tested his hole and pushed inside, and Mike bit down on the inside of his check to keep from shoving his hips back to meet it. Harvey spent a few minutes stretching and loosening him and Mike breathed in and out slowly and carefully. When Harvey removed his fingers, Mike took a swift, harsh breath and suppressed a shiver.

A few minutes of complete silence followed. Mike remained in position, growing increasingly anxious and impatient. He remained painfully hard, and felt the weeping head of his cock brush tantalizingly against his belly. He wanted to grab it and jerk off, but he kept still, determined to please Harvey, if this was what he wanted. In spite of his best efforts, he couldn't seem to halt the fine tremors which ran through him.

Finally, the bed shifted and Harvey's hand touched his shoulder, stroking soothingly down his back. "I have a dildo in my hand. It might feel strange at first, but you'll get used to it. I'm going to use it to play with you for a while. If you don’t like it, just tell me, and I'll take it out."

It felt hard and cold, going into him, a bit painful at first. Mike groaned, and barely remembered not to move as Harvey eased the dildo inside of him. Then Harvey moved away, and the intrusion sat deep in his guts. For long minutes, nothing more happened. It began to be too much for Mike. "Harvey....?"

A warm hand caressed his calf. "How do you feel?"

"Like....can you move it, please? I can't just...."

Harvey began fucking him with the dildo, sliding it in and out, faster, slower, faster again, angling it to slide across Mike's prostate. "Yeah," Mike moaned. "That's good. I'm close, Harvey."

Shoving the dildo deep inside Mike and leaving it there, Harvey slipped a hand beneath him, circling his cock and stroking, maddeningly slow, without nearly enough pressure. His other hand teased its way across Mike's ass, down his crack, to where his opening was stretched wide by the base of the dildo. "Do not," breathed Harvey, forcing his index finger in beneath the dildo, "come until I tell you to."

Mike panted, overwhelmed by Harvey's dual assault. Determined not to move, he held himself rigidly still, muscles straining, back and face damp with sweat. Harvey's finger bent and rubbed inside of him, shifting the dildo. He found Mike's prostate again, and at the same time sped up his hand on Mike's cock.

"God, Harvey," Mike whined, "I _can't...._ I need to come. Please."

"Just wait. Hold on for me. You're doing so well, baby."

Both hands were removed from Mike, and tears of frustration filled his eyes. The crackle of a condom wrapper, the wet sounds of lube, and then the dildo was pulled free and in almost the same movement, Harvey's cock filled him, and he was thrusting into him, forceful and rhythmic, shaking Mike and shaking the bed. One hand held Mike's hip, the other reached up to grab Mike's hair, rough and painful. Mike cried out wordlessly and Harvey's hips sped up.

"Harvey. I need...please, I need to come."

"Do it," Harvey grunted. "Move. Jerk yourself off. Make yourself come _now._ "

It took only a few quick strokes and Mike came hard, and as he did he felt Harvey tense behind him. Fingers bruised his hip, and teeth savaged his shoulder as Harvey pulsed inside of him, holding him tightly and growling into his neck. Mike collapsed, and Harvey's full weight fell on top of him, pinning him to the mattress. Mike gave a last few full-body shudders and heaved a contented sigh.

After long minutes, Harvey pulled out and shifted off of Mike. They lay together, catching their breath. Finally, Harvey got up to dispose of the condom. He sat down on the edge of the bed and ran a hand down Mike's sweaty back. "Good?" he asked, a smile in his voice.

"Perfect," Mike murmured languidly.

It had been perfect. Harvey had been perfect.

Harvey chuckled. "Let's get cleaned up and eat some dinner. You're going to need to keep your strength up. I have plans for you."

"Whatever you want." Mike rolled onto his back, smiling and feasting his eyes on his lover. His heart clenched a little at how beautiful Harvey was, how powerful and tender he'd been. _Whatever you want._ He meant it. He wasn't sure how it had happened so quickly, but he knew with absolute certainty that he would do anything to please Harvey, to wring a single, "Good boy," or, "well done," from those sensuous lips. He grasped Harvey's offered hand and got to his feet, following Harvey.

 

******

 

For several months, they met at Harvey's place once or twice a week. The second week, Mike asked if he could leave a change of clothes in Harvey's dresser.   By the fourth week, he had his own drawer, a toothbrush, and a spot in the parking garage to lock up his bike. Two months into their...relationship?...Mike had to cancel when he was called in at the last minute to bartend at a fiftieth anniversary party.

"Do you really need a second job?" Harvey asked him, not even bothering to disguise his irritation.

Mike laughed. "Job one pays the rent. Job number two means I can afford to have the little extras -- you know, like food, new clothes, and repairs for my bike."

Harvey twisted his lips, displeased, but let it drop.

The second time Mike had to cancel, Harvey said nothing. Instead, he waited until the next night they were together, when he had Mike cuffed to the bed and was straddling his hips while he toyed with the set of clamps attached to Mike's nipples. Mike was already finding it difficult to breathe, his cock was hard and leaking, and Harvey was leaned over him, tugging at the chain connecting the clamps and watching Mike with a dark, heated gaze.

"How's that feel?" he asked.

"Ah. Shit. S'good." Mike moved restlessly, testing the cuffs, licking his dry lips.

Harvey tugged harder on the chain and then nudged the butt plug Mike had been wearing for hours. "You want this out? You want me inside you?"

"Yes," Mike hissed, squirming.

"You want me to fuck you?"

"Yeah."

"Make you scream?"

"Yes!"

"Will you move in with me?"

"Ye -- wait. What?" Mike's eyes widened.

Harvey grasped Mike's swollen nipples and tweaked and twisted. "I want you to move in with me. I want -- " He pinched harder and Mike squealed hoarsely. "I want this every day. Not just when you can spare the time between jobs."

"That's not -- " Mike broke off when Harvey yanked one clamp free. The pain hit, and Mike gave a choked cry, cut off when Harvey leaned down to lick and suckle him. "God, that is so not fair." He pulled on the cuffs, trying to move away, and then changed his mind and arched his back, urging Harvey closer, hips jerking in a desperate attempt to rub off on Harvey.

"You love this," Harvey muttered, teeth grazing Mike's tender nub. "Admit it. We're good together."

As a declaration, it perhaps left something to be desired. But for Harvey, it was a huge step, and Mike knew it. "So good," he gasped.

"Then say it. Say you'll move in with me."

Harvey lifted his head, and yanked off the second clamp. The word had already formed on Mike's lips and tongue, so when blood rushed back into his nipple and the pain flew through him, he arched his head back and screamed it. "Yes! Sweet mother, that hurt. And yes, I'll move in with you, you bastard."

Harvey froze, staring down at Mike as if he couldn't believe he had won so easily. Then his expression gentled and he lowered his head and sucked on Mike's throbbing nipple so sweetly that Mike had to squeeze his eyes shut at the emotions that washed through him.

After that, Harvey uncuffed him, removed the butt plug, and fucked him with his face pressed to Mike's shoulder and Mike's legs locked around his back, arms holding one another tight. When they came, seconds apart, Harvey gasped his name with such fierce intensity it seemed to sear the skin right off his ear. Mike kept his face pressed against Harvey's damp chest, tasting his salty sweat, and wished they could prolong this moment, wrapped up in each other forever.

"Never forget you're mine," whispered Harvey. "Don't you ever -- " He broke off, squeezing Mike tighter, almost too tight. He didn't finish his thought. After a moment he repeated. "You're mine."

Those two words pierced deeply into Mike, and he imagined them tattooed on his bones, repeated over and over, permanent and simple and stronger even than, "I love you."

"And you're mine," he declared. _I love you._

 

******

 

The merging of their lives wasn't without its complications. Too many days, Harvey worked insanely long hours, and now that Mike was down to one job, he ended up alone too many evenings, sitting in a home that didn't feel like his own. There was no room for his shabby furniture or mismatched dishes in Harvey's condo -- and they would have looked laughably out of place -- so all he brought with him were his clothes, his bike, eight boxes of books, and a picture of a panda that he'd found in a secondhand shop which reminded him of one his grandmother had owned. Everything Harvey possessed was expensive and impeccably coordinated, so the panda picture and the books were stacked out of sight in the closet in the spare bedroom.

Mike wasn't a slob, by any means, but sometimes he left dishes in the sink to wash later, or forgot to pick up a dirty towel in the bathroom. They had a few blowups over this issue, but mostly Harvey was patient with him, and in time Mike learned how to keep things just so, the way Harvey preferred.

The time they spent in the bedroom -- or wherever else the mood hit them -- wasn't a problem. Their desires meshed perfectly. Harvey could keep Mike on edge for hours, desperate and keening, and Mike loved it. He loved the carefully meted out pain, the small humiliations that made him burn and blush, the feel of Harvey's palm against his backside, and the diabolical toys that Harvey used to tease and play with him until he squirmed and writhed and screamed out his need.

It was the other times, the in between times, that began to bother Mike. At first it was subtle. He wanted to watch a movie, but Harvey had his work spread out on the counter near the kitchen, and didn't wish to be disturbed.   That one was easy enough to solve. Harvey set up an office in the spare room, and Mike was free to watch whatever he wanted.

There were plenty of nights when Harvey stood at the mirror in his bedroom, adjusting his bow tie, fiddling with his cufflinks, as he prepared for another night out at a gala or charity event that he couldn't avoid. At those times, Mike felt the differences between them most acutely. If he'd been a little older, or had sufficient sophistication, maybe Harvey could afford to show up with Mike at his side. He was just a high school dropout after all, a former street kid who worked as a bike messenger. No way could he fool himself into thinking he was anyone with whom Harvey could be proud to be seen. He tried not to let it bother him.

Sometimes Harvey had to have dinner with a client, or take them out for other entertainments -- Broadway shows, ball games, strip clubs, probably, for all Mike knew. Client Relations, Harvey called it. The first few times he didn't bother to call Mike, just arrived home hours late, slightly drunk but still wound up from his day. When he pushed Mike down and fucked him, hardly bothering to prepare him, Mike didn't complain. It just proved that Harvey had come home to _him_ , that he wanted Mike, and no one else.

Then came the night Harvey stumbled through the door, clearly intoxicated past his normal limits. He dropped his jacket to the floor in the foyer, and wove his way to the bedroom. Moments later, as Mike stood holding Harvey's jacket, carefully smoothing out the creases, Harvey appeared once more, carrying the bottle of lube they kept on the nightstand.

"Put that jacket down and get in here," he ordered, not slurring his words, but speaking in that ultra-precise way he had that let Mike know he was pretty well sloshed.

Mike walked past Harvey into the bedroom, carrying the jacket, and ignoring Harvey while he hung it in the closet and fussed with it, straightening it on the hanger. Harvey grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. "Did you hear what I said?"

"You're drunk," Mike stated unnecessarily. He yanked his shoulder free and backed away from Harvey, edging toward the door.

"If you're not naked and on that bed in about five seconds -- "

"What? You'll drag me there? Fuck me regardless of whether I feel like it or not?"

Now Harvey appeared confused. "What is this? What are you talking about? You always feel like it."

"Not when you're drunk."

Harvey stalked closer, circling Mike's waist with his arms. Scotch-fumed breath tickled Mike's nose. "What's this all about, sweetheart?"

A few weeks ago, Mike would have kept quiet, given in to Harvey. Some newfound courage prompted honesty. "Last time, you hurt me."

Frowning, Harvey said, "Baby, you love it when I hurt you."

"I do. And usually that's okay, because you're in control. You control me, and you control yourself. But when you're drunk, I can't tell whether the pain is intentional or incidental. That scares me, Harvey. I don't like it."

Slowly, Harvey's arms dropped away from Mike. He stepped back, felt for the bed and sat hard. One hand scrubbed across his face. "Damn it, Mike. Why didn't you tell me?"

Mike let out a careful breath. "It's not a big deal."

Harvey stared down at his hands, turning them over and over as if inspecting them for flaws. He reached one out to Mike. "Come here. Please."

Mike hesitated, but Harvey sounded almost completely sober now and he'd said, "please," as if he meant it. Mike crossed the short distance between them and Harvey corralled him between his knees, hands settling gently on Mike's hips.

"I'm sorry, baby." He gazed into Mike's eyes, serious and a little sad. "Sometimes I want you...too much maybe. I swear on my life, I never meant to hurt you, not like that. It was thoughtless of me, and it won't happen again. I promise. I promise I'll take better care of you."

Mike looped his arms around Harvey's shoulders and rested his cheek on Harvey's head. Surprisingly soft hair brushed his nose, and he inhaled the spicy scent of the expensive product Harvey used in it. _I love you,_ he longed to say, but kept the words safely buttoned up inside. "Nobody could take better care of me than you do," was what he said.

He felt Harvey's hands fumbling with the waistband of his pajama pants, and he lifted his head and took a step back, swift anger stabbing through him. "Harvey. You said -- "

"Hush. I know what I said. So let me take care of you now."

Harvey slid off the bed and onto his knees with more grace than Mike would have imagined possible. He caught Mike's waistband and pulled him closer, then tugged the pants down past Mike's cock. Mike could only stare down at the unexpected sight of Harvey Specter on his knees for him. He had just enough time to reach for Harvey's shoulders when he was engulfed in Harvey's hot, wet mouth, and was swallowed to the root.

"Oh fuck," he breathed. "Christ. _Harvey_." Harvey had sucked him before, had teased him when the mood struck him, but this was the first full on, dedicated, no holds barred blow job he'd bestowed on Mike, and it was spectacular. When Mike feared his legs might collapse, Harvey turned him and sat him on the bed, following him on his knees, and not once interrupting the attention to Mike's cock. One hand played with Mike's balls, while the other massaged Mike's entrance, probing gently inside of him without the roughness he might have shown at another time.

Mike was speechless and mindless with pleasure, muttering gibberish and curses, caressing Harvey's bobbing head and doing his best not to buck up into that wonderful mouth. "I'm close," he gasped. Harvey crooked his finger inside of him, rubbing over his prostate. Mike's hands tightened in Harvey's hair, heat gathered in his lower belly, and then Harvey did something with his throat, convulsing and tightening around Mike's cock. Mike came with a wild yell and fell back on the bed, mouth still open and eyes shut. Harvey kept sucking and swallowing through Mike's aftershocks. When Mike was ready to plead for mercy, Harvey finally pulled off, then laid his head on Mike’s hip while he stroked his sides.

Eyes still shut, struggling to catch his breath, Mike panted, “As apologies go, that was really good.”

Harvey gave a soft grunt of laughter and planted a kiss on Mike’s hipbone. “Remind me to do that sometime when I’m sober.”

“You’re saying it gets better than that?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Forget it, then. You’d probably kill me.” He opened his eyes to find Harvey watching his face. “What?”

With a deep sigh, Harvey heaved himself up to sit on the bed next to Mike. He didn’t want to move, wanted only to crawl further up the bed and fall asleep, but Harvey’s expression was serious and intense, so Mike sat up and turned to face him.

“Mike,” Harvey began, and stopped, as if collecting his thoughts. He reached for Mike’s hand and held it while he stared at the wall across from them. “It concerns me that you didn’t say anything sooner about me hurting you. And scaring you, for fuck’s sake.”

“Harvey – “

“No. Let me finish. We’ve talked about a safe word, and you keep insisting you don’t need one. It’s clear to me now that you do.”

Mike pursed his lips. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

Harvey’s hand tightened on his. “Why? Why would you allow that to happen, even once? If I’d realized….”

Gently extricating his fingers, Mike stood and walked to the corner of the room, arms crossed over his chest as he faced Harvey. “I don’t -- didn’t – think I had the right to refuse you.”

A moment of weighted silence. ” _What?_ ” demanded Harvey. “Mike, that’s ridiculous.”

Mike didn’t want to continue this conversation. He wasn’t sure where things would end if he opened everything up and admitted his feelings. Harvey was glaring at him, though, waiting for an explanation. Mike braced himself and met Harvey’s eyes. “This is your place, Harvey. Everything here is yours. Plus, you have a life out there.” He waved an arm toward the window. “You spend more time out there than in here.”

“My job – “

“I know. I know. I’m not complaining about that. I admire the hell out of how good you are at your job. It’s fucking sexy, you know? The way you dominate the opposition and always find a way to win. But – “ He forced his mouth shut, afraid that if he kept going, he would only end up sounding whiny, needy and weak. He breathed in and out, fighting incipient tears.

“Come on, Mike. Just tell me what’s bothering you.”

Harvey’s gentle tone nearly undid Mike, and he bit down on the inside of his lip. He sniffed once, took one more deep, calming breath, and said, “Just look at us. I mean – ” He flung one hand in Harvey’s direction. “Look at you. You’re…everything. And I’m nothing.”

“Sweetheart….”

“No. It’s true. You let me live here, and won’t let me pay you any rent. Everything in here belongs to you, including me. I have nothing. I _am_ nothing. I didn’t even finish high school. Shit, I should have an _off_ switch for when you’re gone, and then you could switch me back on when you get home, because when you’re not here I might as well be in suspended animation or something. Your life is huge, and full of other people I’ll never meet. And me? You’re basically it, Harvey. Except for work, my life is here, in this space. You’re my life, and it kills me a little bit whenever you leave me behind. It makes me feel…like I barely exist.” He stopped abruptly. Harvey had gone completely still, his face pale.

“What are you saying? Are you tapping out?”

Mike expelled a frustrated growl. “No. I’d never do that.”

“Then what is you want, Mike?”

“I – what?”

Harvey rubbed at his face, suddenly looking exhausted. “I asked, what do you want? Do you want a different job? Work for it. Go back to school. Do you want to get out more? Just ask me. Would you like to redecorate my – _our_ – place? Go for it. I’m sure it would look great.” He rose and stalked over to Mike, who was still backed into his corner. “Whatever you want, it’s yours. Ask for it. Take it.” He braced a hand to either side of Mike’s head. “You have to know that I’ll help you however you want – with advice, money, emotional support, anything.” He traced a finger down the side of Mike’s face. “Anything,” he whispered. He placed a soft kiss on Mike’s lips and then lifted his head and regarded Mike with utter seriousness. “Just don’t ever call yourself _nothing_ , because that is total bullshit. Understood?”

As he often did, Mike found himself overwhelmed by Harvey’s nearness and his intensity. He nodded, and met Harvey halfway when the other man leaned in for a long, searching kiss, but in the back of his mind he knew little had been resolved. Certainly, Harvey was right in saying, basically, that Mike should get up off his ass and change his life instead of complaining about it. But he didn’t see how he could ever feel like Harvey’s equal, or mesh completely with his life. As their kiss deepened, and Harvey led Mike back to the bed, Mike promised himself that he would make improvements to his life, and he’d hold onto Harvey for as long as he was able.

 

******

 

Gradually, more of Mike’s possessions made an appearance in the condo. He replaced one modern looking print in the bedroom with his newly framed panda picture, and set some of his favorite, less tattered looking books on the built-in bookshelves in the living room. He found a couple of throw pillows that brightened up the black leather couch, and brought home silly, kitschy little figurines and mugs to put in the kitchen. Sometimes Harvey laughed at his contributions, sometimes he nodded in approval, and sometimes he raised his eyebrows, looking perplexed. He never objected, however.

Harvey also agreed to Mike’s suggestion of a once a week date night. They ate out, saw a movie, went to a club, or whatever one or the other of them suggested. Mike suspected that he enjoyed those evenings more than Harvey, but they were both trying.

As far as his job went, Mike knew that Harvey was right. He needed to decide what he wanted to do, and start working toward it. He remembered promising Trevor, all those years ago, that he would continue his education. Now, as he thought deeply about it, he could admit that it was partly out of spite that he hadn’t followed through on that promise. Sure, he’d been busy just staying housed and fed, but Trevor had always insisted – and he’d known it was true – that there were scholarships he could have applied for. If he’d really wanted it, he could have made it work, but when Trevor abandoned him, his heart had hardened against this one thing Trevor had pushed him to do.

The problem now was that he didn’t know precisely what he wanted to do with his life. He’d thought at one point in the past of becoming a lawyer, but now that seemed problematic. He’d always feel the need to measure himself against Harvey, and he was convinced that he would always find himself lacking. Maybe he could live with that, but he wasn’t sure.

When he was younger, he’d toyed with the idea of going into a field where he could help kids. He had never forgotten how helpless and hopeless he’d felt when his parents died, and then he’d experienced it all over again when his grandmother died. Grammy had been there for him the first time, and Trevor the second time. He couldn’t imagine what might have happened to him if he hadn’t had anyone to look out for him. He thought about pursuing a degree in social work, or counselling, but he wasn’t sure he was brave enough for either one of those occupations.

He browsed college websites online and cringed at the tuition estimates. Harvey had offered to loan him the money, but Mike wasn’t sure that was a good idea. He researched scholarships, but hesitated to apply. He managed to argue himself out of anything that looked remotely promising. He was too old, too boring, had no interesting hobbies, and had a GED instead of a high school diploma.

He felt stuck. Logic told him that this was false, but some tightly wound emotion prevented him from taking action. He wasn’t unhappy, he assured himself. He had Harvey and…well, he had Harvey. They were good. They were great. They were solid. Harvey wasn’t about to be arrested for selling drugs and get himself sent to prison. They’d made promises to each other.

_Trevor made promises._

_Fuck Trevor._

Sometimes Mike wished he’d never met Trevor.

But he had Harvey now, so it didn’t matter.  The past didn’t matter, and their future together could be wonderful and limitless, if only Mike could get himself moving in the right direction – in _any_ direction. He needed to drag his head out of his ass, stop treading water, and figure out who the hell Mike Ross was supposed to be.

 

******

 

Spring had arrived. This was the time of year when Mike came close to actually loving his job, because what wasn’t to love? He got to ride around in the newly warm air, with a fresh breeze in his face and rushing through his hair. The world felt new, and anything seemed possible.

On this day, he had a delivery to Columbia University, and as he pedaled past blooming magnolia trees, masses of daffodils and tulips, and long expanses of green lawn with groups of students scattered across them studying or chatting, he had a sudden notion, and took a detour to the admissions office for an enrollment packet. He didn’t look closely at it, just stuffed it in his messenger bag and headed for the exit.

Riding back through the campus along streets lined with trees and flowers and shrubbery, he couldn’t stop looking at the students, trying to imagine himself there with them, laughing with his friends, or sitting on a stone bench, perhaps reading a history book or sweating over an upcoming chemistry exam. So caught up was he in the fantasy, that he ran a stop sign, and didn’t notice the light-colored ban barreling towards him until it was almost too late. Braking hard, he swerved in one direction while the van swerved in the opposite direction. His front tire hit the curb and he went careening over the handlebars, landing near a row of juniper bushes in a pile of what smelled like fresh beauty bark.  

As he sat on the ground checking himself for injuries – which appeared to be limited to a bruised shoulder, bloody knee and numerous small scratches on his arms and legs from the juniper – he heard a string of colorful curses, growing louder as the van’s driver made for him across the narrow drive.

“Fucking idiot! That bike doesn’t give you a license to – “

When the outburst came to an abrupt stop, Mike looked up and could only gape for a moment. “Trevor?” he croaked in disbelief.

“Mike?”

The boy – now most definitely a man – that Mike remembered so well, and had pined for all those years, stood in front of him, looming over him, all muscles and tattoos and dark, concerned eyes.

“Shit, Mikey.” He dropped to his haunches right next to Mike, touching him as if to make sure he was real. “Are you okay?”

Unexpectedly, Trevor’s touch shot through him like a heated arrow. Mike shuffled back, out of reach. “The fuck?” he squeaked. “Wh-what are you doing here? Were you in New York all this time?” The pain of Trevor’s betrayal and apparent rejection, which Mike thought he was long over, flared inside of him as if it had just happened. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed for his bike, climbed on without caring that he was still in the bushes, or that the bike might have been damaged in the fall. He tried and failed to pedal away, and had to dismount again. Unfortunately, this gave Trevor time to grab his arms and hold him in place. He was strong, stronger than Mike remembered.

“Wait. Let’s talk. I have so much to tell you. I have to explain – “

“Do you? I don’t think so. You said all you needed to say over a year ago. In a fucking _voicemail_ , Trevor. I owe you nothing. I don’t…I can’t…get your fucking hands off of me, you bastard.”

“No. Mike, calm down. Okay. Okay, I’m letting you go. I have to – “ He glanced back at the van, which Mike now noticed had one tire run up over the curb on the opposite side of the drive. The side of the van had a colorful wedding cake painted on it, and the word “Torreccino’s” in fancy script above that. Trevor ran a hand over his dark hair, which was shorter than Mike remembered it, and gave a frustrated sigh. “Shit. I have five hundred cupcakes that need to be delivered. But we have to talk. I know you don’t owe it to me, but I owe it to you. I promised myself I’d let you go, but seeing you now….It’s gotta be fate, right?”

Mike kept his lips pressed together, hating himself for the way his eyes hungrily took in every detail of his ex-lover. Why did he have to look so fucking sexy? Anything boyish in his appearance from before was gone. His face had become hard and dark and handsome, his smile more of a sneer that seemed to hint at all the nasty things he wanted to do to Mike. His wiry frame had filled out with solid muscles, wide shoulders, and flat planes of chest and stomach, all of which were outlined by his tight t-shirt. A small, treasonous part of Mike wanted to lift that t-shirt and admire the toned, masculine body underneath, and maybe lick up and down its delicious contours.

He gave his head a vigorous shake. _Hell no_. He wasn’t going to go there. Not even for a second. He loved Harvey, and this man was a virtual stranger to him now. He said the quickest thing he could think of to wound Trevor and make him go away. “I’m with someone. We’re…it’s pretty serious.”

A brief flash of hurt, and then Trevor smiled at him, if a little sadly. “That’s good Mike. Not good for me, but you deserve to be happy. That’s all I ever wanted for you.”

“Sure. I know that. And I am. But I’ve got to go.”

Trevor sighed, twisting his mouth in indecision. “Me too. Just – hey, just look at the van. There’s our phone number. I know you’ll remember it. I’d love it if you called me. No, don’t say no. Think about it. That’s all I’m asking.”

Mike set his bike on the paved street and pretended to brush off juniper needles that weren’t there. “Maybe. I don’t know. Don’t expect anything, but…okay. I’ll give it some thought.”

Trevor gave him a real smile, moved his hand as if to touch him, but withdrew it. “Thanks. And whatever happens, it was great to see you. You’re looking good, Mikey.”

“Yeah. You too.” He said it grudgingly, but it was true. Truer than he might have wished. He hesitated another few seconds, then mounted his bike and took off, not looking back, but all too aware of the gaze following him as he pulled away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments on chapter one! I apologize for not responding to them, but life...ugh...right? Someone asked about my other WIP, The Art of Memory, and yes I'm still working on that one. It's steady but slow, and maybe a week or two away from the next chapter being posted.
> 
> And THIS story....well, this chapter grew to (relatively) mammoth proportions. Mammoth-ish. I would have ended it sooner, but I rashly promised Trevor's return in this one, and so I had to keep going until he was ready for his reappearance. I suppose that's what I get for making promises. From now on, I promise nothing, except that everything will be completed at some undetermined point in the future.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, guys. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

Damn, Mike had looked so great -- except for the newly added scrapes and bruises, of course. It hurt and felt good at the same time for Trevor to see him, and to imagine him, now, as he drove back to the bakery after making his delivery to the sorority. He'd told Mike it was fate that threw them together today, and it had to be true. If Artie's kid hadn't broken his arm yesterday and been unable to make his deliveries, Trevor would never have volunteered to take his place. His shift would have been over at noon, and he would be home asleep right now, getting ready for his janitor job. And if he hadn't had to detour around a three car accident, which had made him late, he never would have seen Mike.

His heart ached with pride for Mike. He'd done what Trevor had always wanted for him -- gone to college. And not some crummy little city college or technical school. He'd gotten into Columbia. Trevor grinned until his face hurt, and then felt tears prick his eyes. He sniffed once and gave his  head a brisk shake. God, he'd wanted to grab Mike and hug him hard, kiss him until he made that little noise of surrender in the back of his throat. Trevor had never forgotten that noise. He might not have Mike's flawless memory, but he remembered every single thing about Mike. It had been important, because he’d figured those memories would have to last him for the rest of his life.

He may have meant it when he’d sworn to stay away from Mike, but the universe seemed to have a different plan. Still, each time a little lift of hope shot through him now at the thought that Mike might actually call him, he squelched it. _Don't start believing in hope_ , he chided himself. Hadn't prison taught him better than that? And so what if Mike did call? He was with someone, had found someone else. Trevor should be glad about that. He was glad. Happy. Fucking ecstatic.

As he parked the van and got out, he slammed the door too hard, and then had to fight the urge to kick the door as well, and keep kicking until it dented. What stopped him was the knowledge that Artie – Arturo Torreccino, who owned the bakery and had given him a chance when so few others would – did not deserve that. So instead of taking out his frustration on the innocent vehicle, Trevor took a deep breath and headed inside the store to return the keys.

While he was there, he decided to make himself a sandwich to take home for later. One great perk of working in a bakery was that he never had to worry about his meals. Artie appreciated his skills in the kitchen, skills which Trevor had gained courtesy of the New York Department of Corrections, and insisted that Trevor help himself to whatever he desired.

He was stacking pastrami and Havarti on a slice of Artie's fresh honey wheat bread, lost deep in his own thoughts, so it took him a minute to register the fact that Artie had appeared from the front of the store, and was speaking to him. Trevor slanted a glance at him. "Sorry. What?"

Artie executed one of his signature, dramatically expansive hand/arm gestures. "Get your head out of the clouds, kid. I asked if the Delta Alpha whozits got their cupcakes on time."

"Oh. Yeah. Sure. I got delayed by traffic, but it was fine. There was plenty of high-pitched squealing, but I'm pretty sure it was good squealing. They loved your designs, by the way."

Artie shrugged one shoulder. “Flowers and funny Greek letters. Big effing deal. They're gonna be squealing even louder when they taste them. I sampled one this morning and I'm not even gonna ask what you added to the frosting because I know you won't tell me. Just keep doing whatever it is you're doing."

The praise warmed Trevor all the way through, but he kept his expression carefully neutral. "I will." He swiped brown mustard on the Havarti, added a couple of thinly sliced tomatoes and one crisp romaine leaf, and then set the top slice of bread in place and whacked the sandwich in half with a cleaver.

Artie was still talking. "And the tasting today?" Once a week they held wedding cake tastings for prospective customers, for an hour or two in the early afternoon. "You were right about the mango and passion fruit. Everybody loved them. Couldn't shut up about them. We got three orders for each. You know, I never would have guessed it when I first saw you, but you're some kind of fucking cake genius, kiddo."

Trevor could feel himself blushing, something he rarely did anymore. His aptitude in the kitchen – especially involving anything sweet – had surprised him as well. And not just aptitude. He loved experimenting with flavors and texture. It made him feel alive and happy for the first time since he'd been arrested

He’d even been giving serious thought to enrolling in culinary school, if he ever got the money together. He hadn’t confided that to anyone, not that there was anyone besides Artie who would give a shit. He hoped Artie would approve, and maybe allow him a flexible schedule, if he needed one. That was all something for the future, though. Now, he just said, "Huh. Okay. That's good. Thanks, Artie."

"Next time you get inspired to try something new, you don't even gotta ask my permission. Understand?"

He nodded, wrapping his sandwich in two paper towels. He turned to leave, hesitated, debating, and turned back. "Uh, I should probably let you know, I ran up over a curb earlier. Had to avoid some student on a bike. The van looks fine, but if there's any problems, I’ll cover it. You know I'm good for it."

Artie waved him off. "If you say it's fine, I believe you. Go on now. You've had a long day, and I want you here on time tomorrow. We got lots of orders to fill."

Trevor nodded again, heading for the back door. His place was close, only two blocks away, and the alley was the quickest way to get there. He ignored the stench of rotting food and the furtive skitter of movement as he headed for the main street. Five minutes later, he unlocked the door to his tiny apartment, kicked it shut with one foot, set his sandwich on the coffee table and started stripping off his clothes, dropping each piece in a trail across his threadbare carpet on the way to the bathroom.

After turning on the shower, he leaned both hands on the sink and stared into the mirror, waiting for the water to take its sweet time heating up. The face that stared back at him was undeniably his own, Trevor Evans, but he studied it more closely than usual, wondering what changes five plus years – most of them spent behind bars – had made on the familiar features. What had Mike seen today, his old friend and lover, or an unfamiliar ex-con, hardened by life, bitter and aloof?

Steam began to obscure the mirror and he turned away, lips pressed together. He’d forgotten how to be nice, how to be gentle. Whoever Mike had ended up with probably excelled in both skills. Did Trevor deserve someone like Mike? Probably not, he decided. He couldn’t stop himself from wanting, though.

Stepping into the shower, he cursed softly. Why hadn’t he given Mike his cell number instead of the number for the bakery? What if Mike tried to call him when he wasn’t there? He should have mentioned to Artie that he might be getting a call. He gave a bark of laughter, plunging his head underneath the weak trickle of water. Fuck, he was pathetic. People like him never got what they wanted, so why get all worked up about it?

In an attempt to drive the point home to himself, he repeated the mantra that had served him so well in prison: _don’t hope and you won’t be disappointed_.

 

******

 

It was after nine when Harvey finally made it home. He’d remembered to call Mike around seven, to let him know he’d be late. For once, Mike hadn’t answered the phone, and Harvey had been forced to leave a message. A nagging premonition had bothered and distracted him all through dinner, dessert and coffee with Jessica and their newest client. More than once, he’d felt Jessica’s questioning gaze directed his way. He’d done his best to engage and throw himself into the conversation, but the weird, niggling unease about Mike wouldn’t go away. He'd declined a drink with Jessica afterward and took a cab home.

When he unlocked the door to the condo to find Mike sacked out on the sofa watching some horrible movie about giant, rampaging crocodiles, he experienced a wave of relief much more intense than seemed warranted. He removed his jacket and tie, and went to place a kiss on the top of Mike’s head. That was when he noticed the cold pack Mike had pressed to one shoulder. At the same time, he registered the dark bruise on his forearm, and a multitude of scratches all up and down his arms. His legs were covered by his pajama pants, but what he could see of his ankles appeared unscathed.

“What happened to you?” he demanded, when he had meant to say that he’d missed Mike and had been thinking about him all night.

Mike shrugged and tipped his head back, giving Harvey a lopsided grin. “Took a tumble on my bike. Not a big deal.”

Harvey took the cold pack from Mike and carefully pushed up the sleeve of his t-shirt. His shoulder was purple and swollen. Harvey prodded it gently, trying to determine the extent of the damage, and whether or not he needed to take Mike to the ER.

“Ouch,” Mike stated clearly, and reclaimed the cold pack. “It looks worse than it is. Please don’t go all mother hen on me. I’ve taken spills on my bike before. Believe me when I tell you that this one was minor.”

Harvey tamped down his alarm. Mike was fine. No need for panic. He sat next to Mike and let him adjust his legs so they draped across Harvey’s lap. “What happened?” There. That had sounded perfectly calm and reasonable.

“I – some guy – shit.” Mike pulled his legs away from Harvey and set his feet on the ground so that they were now sitting side by side. “I better tell you the whole thing.”

The alarm which Harvey had so recently mastered flared up anew. “Whole thing? What thing?” Mike was looking at him, and wasn’t touching him. What the hell had happened?

Mike sighed deeply. “Okay. Here’s the thing. I was making a delivery. Oh!” He stopped, eyes going round. “It was over at Columbia. I picked up an enrollment packet, while I was there.”

“That’s great. I’m happy. But something tells me that’s not it. Not the ‘thing’ you’re reluctant to tell me about. Mike? Quit stalling and tell me.”

Mike chewed his lip for a moment. “Just. Don’t freak out. It was a fluke. A coincidence. I probably won’t even call. Because – because it’s over and done and – “

“Mike.”

A short pause. “I ran into Trevor today.”

It took Harvey a few seconds to work out who it was that Mike was talking about. Then it clicked. “You ran into – _oh_. Trevor. He was the boyfriend. The drug dealer.” He did his best to state the facts without sounding judgmental, but even though Mike had asked him not to, inside he was indeed freaking out. He touched Mike's bruised shoulder and ran his hand lightly over the scratches on his arm. "These are because of him?" His voice had gone low and deadly.

"No. Yes. _No._ That part was my fault. I ran a stop sign. His van never hit me, but I swerved a little too energetically and ended up in the bushes."

"His van?"

Mike was smiling, and it looked almost...fond. Harvey's stomach gave a sickening roll, but he said nothing more for the moment.

"Yeah. Turns out he's a delivery guy too. Like me, except he works for a bakery." Mike shook his head, gaze inward. "It shocked me, seeing him like that, appearing out of nowhere. He looked good, though. Really good." As if suddenly realizing how he sounded, he darted a guilty look at Harvey. "I just mean, he looked healthy. And gainfully employed. So...it's all good." He averted his gaze, worrying his lower lip with his teeth, an obvious tell that he was nervous.

Harvey had dozens of questions he wanted to ask, all of which would accomplish nothing besides making him sound like a jealous fool. He searched inside himself for calm, and when he spoke, he chose his next words carefully. "Have you reconciled with him?"

"What? No. We barely even talked. Like I said, it really threw me. I basically took off as soon as I got my bike upright again."

Harvey stroked Mike's upper thigh, trying not to communicate his tension. "But you've been sitting here thinking about him?"

A quick intake of breath, released slowly. Mike placed his hand over Harvey's, interlacing their fingers. "He wants me to call him. Just to talk, I think."

"Ah." He wanted to pull his hand away, to stand up and put distance between them, but he remained where he was, and allowed Mike to keep possession of his hand. He could feel Mike's gaze on the side of his face.

"I told Trevor about you. That I was with someone. I don't think he wants me back -- or at least he knows he can't have me."

That should have eased the clench of tension in Harvey's guts, but just the same, it felt like something had shifted -- was shifting -- in the atmosphere, and in the boundaries of their relationship. What had seemed solid and defined now felt...nebulous and dangerously fragile. He wanted to grab Mike, hold him with every bit of strength he possessed, and proclaim, _Mine._

"What -- " Harvey had to stop and swallow, his throat having gone dry. He thought about going to the kitchen and pouring himself a drink, but resisted the urge. He'd been about to ask what Mike was going to do, whether or not he intended to call Trevor. He took a moment to think things through, letting the solidity and warmth of Mike's hand in his anchor him.

Life had taught him long ago that loyalty couldn't be forced. Earned, sometimes. Cherished, definitely. But if Mike decided to leave him for Trevor, he couldn't do a damn thing to stop him. That notion physically pained him, made him ill in ways he hadn't felt since he was much younger. Surprisingly, his voice sounded calm when he said, "Maybe you should call him."

Mike gave his hand a quick squeeze, which could have meant almost anything. They sat in silence as the television played noisy scenes of crocodile carnage.

"What are you watching?" Harvey finally asked, puzzled distaste dripping from his voice.

"I have no idea." Then Mike moved and Harvey felt his lips against his ear. "Take me to bed, Harvey."

He sighed. "Mike...."

"No. Don't go all serious and concerned on me. You're acting like this is a big deal." Mike crawled into Harvey's lap, knees straddling him. "I'm with you." He moved his pelvis suggestively and Harvey grabbed his hips to hold him still. "You're the one I want, Harvey. You've got nothing to worry about."

It never failed to surprise him that Mike read him so well. So much for hiding his feelings. "You say that now, but...." He trailed off, rubbing his thumbs over the points of Mike's hips. Still too bony. He'd need to see that Mike ate more.

If, that is, Mike remained his to worry about and take care of.

He pushed Mike's t-shirt up out of the way and pressed kisses to his chest, licking first one nipple and then the other. Mike sighed and arched into him, resting his forearms on Harvey's shoulders.

Harvey knew he could order Mike not to call Trevor, and he would obey him. But what if Mike spent the rest of whatever time they had together wondering? Every time they had a disagreement, perhaps he would think he'd made the wrong choice. He would grow to resent Harvey, to despise his heavy-handed ways. Harvey would wonder too, if Mike might have been happier with Trevor. Shouldn't Mike have a chance to choose his own path to happiness?

_But he's mine._

Harvey's arms tightened around Mike. He pulled his head down for a kiss, starting soft and slow, feeling the familiar triumph surge through him when Mike responded immediately, opening up for Harvey and moaning in the back of his throat, the vibrations passing between them.

Harvey shifted around and pressed Mike back onto the sofa, covering his body with his own, rubbing their erections together. He thrust his hand down Mike's pants and closed it around his cock. He loved the heat and weight and silky hardness of him, and he stroked almost reverently, catching Mike's delicious noises with his mouth as he squirmed against Harvey with a feverish need that was so sexy.

"God," Mike croaked, breaking their kiss. " _Harvey_. You're gonna make me come."

"Then come. I want to see you come just like this, hot and messy, all over my hand. After that, maybe I'll take you to bed and play with you for a few hours before I fuck you into the mattress."

He teased Mike's slit with his thumb, dragged his nails up and down his length, and then jacked him, rhythmic and rough, tweaking one nipple with a vicious squeeze of his other hand to send him over the edge. The sight of Mike beneath him as he climaxed, arched and rigid, mouth slightly open, never failed to astonish Harvey.

_So beautiful. And so completely his._

He pulled the t-shirt off a drowsy, dazed looking Mike, cleaned his hand and Mike's stomach, and gave Mike another thorough kiss. Before he took him into the bedroom, he held him against his chest for several minutes, stroking his back and coming to a decision.

No more talking tonight. In the morning, he'd insist that Mike call Trevor. If there was a choice to be made, it was Mike's choice to make. Difficult as it might be, Harvey had to trust that after Mike saw Trevor again, he would come back to Harvey.   If not -- no, he wouldn't think about that. All he could do was show Mike how much he wanted and needed him.

The rest was up to Mike.


	4. Chapter 4

Mike wanted to meet Trevor in Central Park Saturday afternoon.  The weather was holding, there would be plenty of people around, and he’d have numerous escape routes if things didn’t go well.  Trevor claimed he didn’t have time to make it to the park, insisting that he had to catch some sleep between his two jobs.  After a tense negotiation, they compromised on meeting at seven in the evening in a small bar in Brooklyn. 

Mike rode his bike across the bridge and into the familiar neighborhood, trying not to think about Harvey’s somber eyes and tight features, or the way he’d pressed a kiss to Mike’s forehead with cool lips before Mike left.  He also tried not to analyze what it meant that Harvey was allowing -- even encouraging -- this meeting.  Did he trust Mike that much?  Or did he care so little about the outcome?   

Mike arrived early, and carried a beer to a shadowy corner booth where he could watch the front door.  When Trevor walked it at five minutes past seven, Mike had a few seconds to study him.  He moved with a slow, sure confidence that Mike didn’t remember, and doubted he could ever emulate.  Trevor’s dark eyes scanned the room and when he spotted Mike, he gave him a lopsided grin, but stopped at the bar for a beer and a shot of what looked like whiskey, laughing and speaking to the bartender as if he knew her. 

With Trevor finally seated across from him, Mike temporarily lost the ability to form words and sentences.  This was the Trevor he remembered, but also not.  Mike had known a boy who knew how to act tough.  Sitting across from his was a man who didn't need to put on an act.  Mike tried looking at him with a stranger's eyes, and saw a hard, watchful man with thick muscles outlined under his t-shirt, ropy muscles in his arms that bunched and moved and caught the light when he lifted his drink to toss back the shot. 

Mike found himself transfixed by the movement of the tanned throat as Trevor swallowed, and the incongruously delicate pink tongue that darted out to lick well-molded lips.  A small, distinct scar that he didn't remember angled over one corner of his mouth, and another, longer scar intersected his collarbone and disappeared beneath his shirt.  Mike wanted to follow it with his eyes, his fingers, his tongue, and discover all of the other changes currently hidden under Trevor's clothes. 

Feeling guilty and disloyal and turned on all at once, he looked away, down at his own thin fingers toying with the half-peeled label on his beer bottle, and forced himself to remember.  Trevor had betrayed him, abandoned him, lied to him.  He couldn’t let himself forget any of that. 

"So, tell me, Mike, how much longer do you have?" 

Pretty sure that he hadn't missed a previous question, Mike scrunched his eyebrows in confusion and stole another quick, greedy glance at Trevor's biceps.  "How much longer....what?" 

Trevor leaned in and touched a hand to the back of Mike's, just a flutter of a touch, there and gone.  "School.  Are you a senior?  What are you studying?" 

Understanding dawned.  Trevor had seen him on campus, and assumed he was a student.  A flush of shame swept through Mike, quickly followed by anger.  Why should he worry about disappointing Trevor?  He took a long swallow of beer and looked Trevor in the eye.  "I never went to college.  I've been a little too busy trying to survive."  A bit overly dramatic perhaps, but he experienced a perverse stab of pleasure at Trevor's wince.  "I got my GED, but that's it.  I make deliveries for a living, like you." 

Trevor laughed lightly, sliding his gaze away and tapping his fingers on the tabletop, as if he was nervous.  "I'm sorry, Mikey.  I guess I fucked things up for you, getting arrested like that.  I'd give just about anything to be able to go back and do it all again -- to do it differently and better." 

Against his will, Mike felt something ease inside of him at Trevor's apology.  He shrugged.  "Well, shit.  Prison.  That wasn't exactly a vacation, I'm guessing.  I am glad you made it out okay." 

Another short laugh from Trevor.  "Okay?  Yeah, maybe.  I don't know.  That remains to be seen." 

Mike wanted to press for more details, but at the same time, he was afraid to hear the things Trevor might have gone through behind bars.  Those scars.... 

"Anyway," Trevor was saying, "I got one positive thing out of it.  I'm...uh...."  He stared down at the table, bit his lip, and lifted his gaze to Mike's, keeping his head down.  "I sort of learned how to cook.  And it turns out, I'm pretty good at it." 

Mike's eyes widened in surprise.  That was the last thing he would have expected to hear.  When he'd lived with Trevor, he had barely known how to heat up water in the microwave.  "So, the bakery....?" 

A wide, genuine smile broke out on Trevor's face, even as pink tinged his cheekbones.  "Yep.  I bake."  He spread arms to the side.  "I'm a baker." 

"Wow.  That's awesome, Trev."  Mike meant it, but a tiny worm of resentment wound through him.  Trevor had apparently found his calling, but Mike was still just a crappy bike messenger with no idea what he wanted to be when he grew up.   

Trevor shrugged and twisted his lips, but the smile wouldn't seem to go away.  "I don't know.  I like it.  There's this cooking school.  That's why I'm working this night job, so I can save up for it.  The tuition's kind of insane, but it's supposed to be the best.  So...." 

"Cool," said Mike, and then couldn't think of what else to say. 

"And...look, I wasn't lying about leaving town when I left you that voicemail.  There was this work opportunity thing out in Montana.  Some rancher who likes to give ex-cons a chance because of his son or something.  It sounded like a fresh start.  And to be honest, I was so messed up in the head at the time.  The idea of "Big Sky Country" appealed like you wouldn't believe.  The more empty space I could put around me -- between me and other people -- the better.  Like I said, my head wasn't right.  I figured you didn't need some whacked out ex-con dragging down your life.  Maybe you still don't.  Anyway, in the beginning, Montana was the right move.  I didn't even mind shoveling horse shit.  But once I managed to get my head on straight -- straighter -- I realized that I wasn't exactly Montana material, so I headed back here." 

While Mike digested what Trevor had told him, he also tried to imagine Trevor on a ranch, but couldn't get past the image of him in tight, faded jeans and a sweaty, clinging t-shirt.   He also came to the uncomfortable realization that he had never deeply considered Trevor's viewpoint, and how being locked up for all those years might have affected him.  Having admitted that to himself, he could also admit how much he'd missed having Trevor around as a friend.   

"Did you wear a cowboy hat?" he asked, trying to picture that. 

Trevor grinned.  "Naw.  They couldn't get me to trade in my Yankees cap.  I mean, would you?" 

"Fuck no.  They'd have to, I don't know, brand me first." 

"Damn straight."  Trevor lifted his beer bottle and after a brief hesitation, Mike did the same, and they touched them together with a musical clink.  "Speaking of which, check this out." 

He lifted one side of his t-shirt, revealing a black tattoo underneath his left nipple.  Mike squinted at it, seeing two angular letters interlocked, which looked like, "SM."  His heart stuttered and then beat faster at the possible implications.  "Does that...are you...?" 

Trevor gave an amused snort.  "It stands for Stanley Mason Ranch.  That's what their brand looks like.  But we can talk about other possible meanings, if you want." 

Mike knew he was blushing, and tried to make his answering laugh sound casual and worldly. "Ah, no.  Maybe another time."  

He hadn't meant to concede anything, not yet, but he had given Trevor an opening, and should have known Trevor well enough to know that he would jump on it.  Trevor reached across the table and took hold of Mike's wrist.  "Another time?  You mean that?  Like, we can keep in touch?" 

Captured by Trevor's hand, and by his searching gaze, Mike faltered.  His plan in coming here had been simple closure, to hear Trevor out and say a proper goodbye.  Now, in spite of Mike's unwavering loyalty to Harvey, he couldn't deny that having Trevor's hand on him not only felt right, it felt like... _home..._ as if even with Harvey in his life, he had remained adrift in an unfamiliar world, and being with Trevor finally gave him a solid spot to land once again. 

If he hadn't had Harvey in his life, Mike might have jettisoned his pride, crawled into Trevor's lap right then, wrapped his arms around him, clung to him and wept with relief at this unexpected return of his safe harbor.  But he did have Harvey, so he gave Trevor's restraining hand a few pats with his own free hand, and then gently extricated his wrist and leaned back in his seat. 

"I'm with Harvey," he said flatly.  Disappointment flashed in Trevor's eyes, but he nodded at Mike.  "Can you," Mike asked carefully, "agree to be my friend?  Nothing more than that?" 

 Trevor's mouth twitched once, and then he nodded somberly.  "That would be great." 

A wide grin fought to break out on Mike's face, but he kept his expression neutral.  "Okay.  We can definitely keep in touch.  And I want you to meet Harvey.  I want you to meet each other, so we all know where we stand." 

Looking down, Trevor gave a cynical laugh.  "What could possibly go wrong there?" 

"Trevor...." 

"Okay.  Fine.  We'll all get together for a nice, civil fucking brunch or something.  Happy?" 

Anxiety filled Mike at Trevor's sarcastic tone, and he started to wonder if introducing him to Harvey was such a good idea.  Having decided he wanted Trevor back in his life, and determined to keep Harvey, there didn't seem to be any other choice.  Harvey had to be satisfied that Mike and Trevor would remain platonic, and Trevor had to see for himself how rock-solid Mike and Harvey were.   

"When's your next day off?" Mike asked. 

After a short pause, Trevor said, "Monday." 

"Would you come to dinner at our place?"  He scribbled the address on the back of a coaster and handed it to Trevor, whose eyebrows rose as he took it. 

"Pretty fancy real estate.  You live with this guy huh?  Harvey?  So what are you, his boy toy?" 

Mike flushed, because he did feel like that sometimes, but otherwise ignored the question.  "Can you make it or not?" 

"Fine.  I'll be there.  What time?" 

"Seven?" 

"Fine," Trevor repeated. 

After that, there didn't seem to be much else to say, so they finished their drinks and stood to go. 

"You usually drink like this before work?" Mike asked, meaning it as a joke. 

Trevor give him a sidewise look as they walked toward the door.  "I don't drink much at all, except when I'm really fucking nervous." 

Mike's eyes widened at that admission.  Trevor didn't look like a man who let anything get to him.  They stepped out into the cool night air and Mike turned to face Trevor.  "It was good -- " he started, but broke off as Trevor's hand came up to skim across Mike's forehead, as if brushing too-long bangs to the side, just like he used to do. 

"Trevor...." Mike breathed, meaning to scold, but when Trevor's face angled towards his, intentions perfectly clear, he forgot to speak, and couldn't seem to move as warms lips pressed against his and a  hard thigh nudged him back against the wall of the building.  He allowed the kiss for long moments, hands kneading Trevor's biceps, head resting back against the building, tongue meeting Trevor's, and senses exploding with pleasure and lust.   

Finally, Mike yanked his head to the side and away from Trevor.  His hands let go of Trevor and gave him a sharp shove.  "Shit.  Don't." 

Trevor took a step back, palms held towards Mike.  "I know.  That was a mistake.  I couldn't resist, though, just this once.  It won't happen again, I swear." 

Annoyed to find himself breathing too hard, Mike struggled to calm down.  "No.  It won't." 

Someone approached the door, and they moved down the sidewalk and out of the way.  Trevor crossed his arms over his chest and glanced at Mike.  "Still want me there on Monday?" 

Part of Mike was screaming,  _bad idea!_   But he wasn't ready to give up on the rational little plan he'd concocted.  Sure, he could have both men in his life....just... _parameters_.  That's all they needed to make it work.  "Yes," he said tightly.  "No more kissing, though.  We stay in the friend zone or it's a no go.  All right?" 

A tight nod.  "Agreed.  I won't try it again."  And then that cocky smile reappeared.  "You're free to try whatever you want though.  You know...if you change your mind."  He shoved his hands in his pockets and started to walk away.  "See you Monday," he said over his shoulder. 

Mike stood alone on the sidewalk, glad that he had the ride home ahead of him before he had to face Harvey.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...kind of a short chapter. And slow to arrive. Apologies for both things. It was a difficult month. Thanks for the comments and kudos, and for continuing to read, if you are. You are all lovely, fantastic people.
> 
> (If you're a reader of "Art of Memory," I'm working on the next chapter for that story as well.)


	5. Chapter 5

The buzzer bleated in the living room, signaling that Mike's friend had arrived.  Harvey continued to stare at himself in the bathroom mirror for several moments longer, before running a hand through his hair and attempting to realign his features so that he looked friendly and welcoming, as opposed to angry and suspicious.  He might have been able to pull off the first, if Mike hadn't confessed to him less than an hour ago that he and Trevor had shared a kiss on Saturday.  

He had to credit Mike for his honesty -- even it was somewhat belated.  Mike's telling made it sound as if Trevor was to blame for the kiss, but Mike had kept it a secret for nearly forty-eight hours, so how innocent could it have been?  Harvey's first instinct had been to head for the door, to cancel this latest ridiculous notion of Mike's.  Did he honestly believe that his ex-boyfriend and his current one could become friends?  It seemed like the stuff of a poorly written screwball comedy.  

He studied his somber reflection in the mirror and wondered how he'd ever convinced himself that he and Mike could have a successful, long-term relationship.  They were too different -- in age, experience, temperament.  But -- and here he gave a weary sigh -- did he really want to be with someone like himself?  Someone harsh and ambitious and serious and outwardly cold?  Someone who distrusted others to the point of obsession?  Someone who used emotions like weapons?  

He grimaced at his reflection.  Mike accepted all of that and seemed to be genuinely fond of him.  And the sex.... The truth was, he wasn't anywhere close to ready to give up what he had, and if he had to battle some ex-con  _baking_  enthusiast to keep what he had, then that is what he would do.  He ran a hand through his hair a final time and nodded once.  Mike Ross belonged to Harvey Specter, and nobody was taking him away.  Hearing voices in the living room, Harvey turned and went to meet his foe.  

  

*****  

  

Harvey was not what Trevor had expected.  What  _had_  he expected?  A handsome young professional, friendly and warm like Mike, perhaps a bit possessive, a lot pretentious, but soft in all the ways that counted -- all the ways that would leave him vulnerable when Trevor decided to take back what belonged to him.  

Harvey was undeniably handsome, but instead of the imagined Ivy League weakling, Harvey appeared every inch the alpha male.  Moments after Mike had ushered Trevor into the impressive and intimidating apartment, Trevor found himself shaking hands with the sort of stony-visaged, fiery-eyed predator that prison had taught him to avoid like the plague.  Harvey shook his hand, and if his palms were smooth and his nails well-maintained, and he smiled and spoke all of the correct and oh-so-polite words, his dark eyes communicated quite eloquently that he would cheerfully tear Trevor apart if he dared to make a move on Mike.  His strong grip and powerful shoulders told Trevor that he could make good on that unspoken threat.  

Trevor shook his hand and smiled back, and felt an unexpected shiver run through him.  "Mike tells me you're a lawyer," he said.  He'd meant to emphasize the word, "lawyer," to pronounce it as if it were something filthy, like a disease or a slimy, poisonous insect.  Instead, he kept his tone as polite as Harvey's.  "And a pretty good one."  He gave a self-deprecating chuckle.  "I could have used someone like you a few years ago."  

Harvey smiled toothily, a shark in jeans and a grey cashmere sweater.  "That's right.  Mike tells me you're a criminal.  You couldn't have afforded me then, and you certainly can't afford me now.  Besides, I don't do criminal law.  Why would anyone want to spend time with criminals, if they didn't have to?"  A brief pause.  "I hear you like to bake cakes now.  Which I find kind of...adorable." 

Trevor felt himself blush, and a tiny smolder of anger lit inside of him, which he ignored.  Mike materialized next to him and shoved a bottle of beer into his hand.  Trevor took it, but kept his eyes on Harvey.  "That's right, Harvey.  Do you mind if I call you Harvey?  No?  It’s true.  I've done my time, paid for my stupid mistake.  We can't all earn a living feeding like parasites on the wealthy of the world.  Some of us prefer something more wholesome, with sugar and flour and eggs, and no blood or souls or whatever nourishes someone like you."  He took a deep swallow of cold beer, held in his belch and grinned at Harvey.  He had a moment to savor the look of annoyance in Harvey's eyes before Mike captured his attention.  

"So, this is good.  This is nice.  We're talking.  How about we all sit down and get to know one another?"  Mike stood between them, one hand on Trevor's shoulder and the other on Harvey's forearm.  "Trevor?  Harvey?"  

Trevor could feel Mike's thin fingers tighten painfully on his shoulder, and from the quick look Harvey slanted at Mike, he suspected that he was receiving similar treatment.  Trevor met Harvey's dark eyes, and something passed between them which made him want to shiver again, but he refused to acknowledge it, and just nodded slowly.  "Sure, Mikey," he said, gaze still locked with Harvey's.  "Let's do that."  

He could sense Mike's relief, could feel the way his fingers loosened on him.  They followed Harvey into the living room, where the older man took the armchair, seating himself like a king on his throne, while Mike joined Trevor on the sofa.  Beers were chugged or sipped, throats cleared.  Trevor wished, suddenly, that he'd never agreed to this.  He was the intruder here, and the thought of Mike choosing him over someone like Harvey Specter now seemed like the most absurd of notions.  

  

******  

  

Mike glanced between Harvey and Trevor.  Both seemed angry and closed off, and at that moment Mike couldn't remember why he'd thought this would be a good idea.  Dark eyes and tense muscles hunched next to him, and dark eyes and stiff posture sat across from him.  He was struck, all of a sudden, by the similarities between the two men, at least physically.  

"Trevor is planning to go to culinary school," he blurted, and then wished he'd kept his mouth shut.  Trevor blushed and scowled, and although Harvey's expression didn't change much, Mike knew him well enough to see the amusement and scorn behind the blankness.  It irritated him.  He knew Harvey was no snob, not about things like this, but evidently he intended to use the difference in social stature against Trevor.  "Not everyone can go to Harvard," he muttered.  

"Harvard, huh?"  Trevor laughed.  "Mommy and Daddy must have been pretty well off to afford that."  

Mike bit back a groan.  Of all the things Trevor could have said, that was likely the worst.  Across from them, Harvey didn't react, except for the dark gaze that darted to Mike, and then back to Trevor.  

"Actually, no. I was lucky enough to have a friend who loaned me the money.  My mother and father weren't well off, but at least they stuck around for most of my childhood.  From what I understand, your father donated some sperm and was never heard from again, and your mother was too busy getting high to give a shit about her little boy.  It's ironic, isn't it, that you were arrested for dealing drugs.  Your mother would have been so proud -- if you even knew where to find her, that is.  And what's with the cooking?  Did Mommy never bake you a cake?  Is that your sad little story?"  

Mike grew cold all over as he listened to Harvey.  He knew the bare outlines of Trevor's story, but Harvey had evidently done a bit of digging in preparation for this meeting.  He supposed he was hearing the Harvey Specter that opposing counsel feared, and he did not care for it at all.  Mike closed his eyes, but opened them again when he felt Trevor rise to his feet.  

"You fucking, entitled piece of shit," Trevor snarled.  "This is how you treat a guest in your home?"  He glanced down at Mike.  "This is the guy you're so into, Mikey?  He seems like a real prize."  

Mike stood up and put his hand on Trevor's shoulder.  "He's not usually like this.  I'm so sorry.  Just please sit down and -- "  

And then Harvey was on his feet too, advancing on Mike.  "Don't you dare apologize for me.  Your  _friend_  has been nothing but disrespectful to me since he stepped foot in my home."  

Trevor laughed meanly.  "You hear that, Mikey?   _His_  home.  Not yours.  You're just a prize to him.  A pretty little fuck toy."  

Harvey surged forward and Mike put a hand on his chest, trying to fend him off.  "You little prick," Harvey growled.  "You don't talk about Mike like that.  I should slap that smirk right off your face."  

"I'd like to see you try."  Trevor took a threatening step toward Harvey.  

Mike found himself trapped between them, trying his best to keep them apart.  "Stop," he said.  Both men ignored him.  He gave Harvey a shove, which barely moved him, and then used both hands to push Trevor back a few inches.  

"Stay out of this," said Trevor, at the same time Harvey ordered, "Go to the bedroom, sweetheart.   _Now_."  

Mike stepped back, away from both of them.  "So that...what?  You two can beat the shit of each other?  Then what?  Winner gets the spoils?"  He shook his head.  "Fuck this shit.  All I wanted was a nice dinner, and you two assholes couldn't even make it ten minutes."  He kept shaking his head as he stalked toward the front door.  "I can't be here right now.  You two figure it out.  I'm out of here."  

Complete silence followed his pronouncement, and continued until the door made a satisfying slam behind him.  He stood in the hallway, shocked by what had just happened, struggling not to burst into tears.  No one followed him, no one called out to him to come back inside, so he stomped toward the elevator and pressed the down arrow with short, staccato jabs.  

  

******  

  

Harvey listened to the door slam.  Part of him wanted to run after Mike, to apologize and reassure him that he could be calm and reasonable.  But Trevor still stood inches away, muscles tensed, gaze deadly.  Maybe Mike had the right idea.  This was something he and Trevor had to settle between themselves.  

He sighed, stepped back and sat back down, almost smiling at the sudden confusion in Trevor's eyes.  

"Sit down," he said, gesturing at the sofa, and was surprised when after only a handful of seconds, Trevor sat.  They regarded one another, both suspicious.  "You still want Mike," Harvey finally concluded.  

Trevor's eyes clouded, but after a moment he nodded.  "He's mine," he murmured.  "We belong together."  

"You left him," Harvey replied.  "Twice, in fact.  Maybe the first time was due to stupidity, but the second time you had a choice."  

With a mulish twist of his mouth, Trevor leaned back and stared at the ceiling.  "I've discussed this all with him.  He knows why I left, why I couldn't be with him these last months."  

"And did he forgive you?"  

"I think so.  He understands."  

Harvey let that sink in.  "Okay.  And what do you have to offer him now, Mr. Future Baker of Brooklyn?  You and I both know you can't afford that culinary school you want to go to.  It'll take you years to save enough for the tuition.  How are you going to support Mike in the meantime?  Will you ever be able to afford a place like this?"  He swept his arm around to indicate his apartment.  

"Jesus, Harvey, Mike's not some spoiled little princess.  He may be used to this lifestyle -- to  _your_  lifestyle -- but I know he could be just as happy in Brooklyn with me.  Happier, maybe, since I'm not so far above him, like you are."  He sat up straight and then leaned forward, jabbing a finger in the air between them.  "And you should be doing better by him, man.  Mike's special.  His mind....it's a one-in-a million thing.  Why do you let him waste himself at that crappy messenger company?  You should be encouraging him to get an education, to improve himself.  He could be a lawyer like you, maybe better, even.  What, are you afraid of the competition, is that it?  Do you like being superior, and lording it over him?"  

Harvey held Trevor's angry glare for nearly a full minute, holding back his own temper while running everything the younger man had said through his mind.  Was he holding Mike back?  Was he afraid of Mike advancing in the world, of letting people into his life who might want to compete for his time or his affection?  He shook his head angrily.  "It's for Mike to decide what he wants to do with his life.  He knows that I'll support him in whatever he wants.  We've discussed this.  He  _knows_  it."  

"And what if," Trevor said quietly, "what he wants is me?"  

Harvey hid his wince, even as he felt all the bluster he'd built up inside himself collapsing.   _What if_?  

Damn it, he wanted Trevor gone, disappeared, out of their lives.  Restless, he stood and walked to the window, stared out into the darkness without seeing a thing.  What would he do if Mike chose Trevor over him?  Only two hours ago, it hadn't seemed remotely possible, but now he just didn't know.  Trevor was an attractive man, with a raw sort of sexuality.  If Harvey had met him somewhere before he knew Mike, he might have asked him home, enjoyed a night with him, strength colliding with strength.  All of the supposed character weaknesses Harvey had intended to use against him didn't mean a thing in the end.    

It had been years, decades maybe, since Harvey had shed a tear, but right now his chest felt tight with them and he wanted to punch something -- or someone.  He needed Trevor gone.  He needed some goddamn space to figure this all out.  

"Look, Trevor," he began, turning around, and found the other man inches away, hand out as if reaching for him, as if he had walked up behind him to...comfort him?  He frowned, confused, and Trevor took back his hand, although he remained where he was. 

“I don’t know you, Harvey,” Trevor said softly.  “But it looks to me like you have everything, like you could have anyone you wanted.  Me?  The only good thing I ever had in my life was Mike.  He’s like…I don’t know…my center, or something.  I look around me, and all I see is grey and dark and dirty, but Mike is like sunlight, and laughter and…shit, I sound like a fucking Hallmark card, right?  I gotta have him though, and I'm giving you fair warning: I’ll fight for him, do whatever it takes to get him back.” 

Harvey searched for a response to this heartfelt plea, but the only words he could find were the ones he’d never even spoken to Mike, and wouldn't speak to this near stranger.   _I love him_.  “So what are we going to do?”  When he asked that question of a client, or an opponent, he always had an answer ready.   Now, though, he sincerely wanted an answer, wanted someone to solve this for him.  He felt in danger of breaking apart, and Trevor didn't seem much better off.  Harvey let out a long breath, and if the pressure in his chest didn't ease entirely, it at least felt more manageable.  He asked the first thing that came to mind.  "You want something stronger than beer?" 

One corner of Trevor's mouth quirked up, giving him a slightly wicked, mischievous look.  "What have you got?" 

Harvey attempted a smile in return, which felt more like a grimace.  "Follow me," he muttered, and headed to the kitchen.  He gestured at a stool on one side of the breakfast bar.  "Have a seat."  He reached into the back of the liquor cabinet to retrieve an unopened bottle of Macallan 18 and held it up for Trevor's approval.  The other man's smile widened as he settled himself on a stool while Harvey opened the bottle and poured two healthy shots.  He slid one glass across the bar to Trevor and raised his own.  "To Mike Ross." 

Trevor's mouth twisted, but he touched his glass to Harvey's.  "To Mike." 

Harvey sipped, closing his eyes briefly as he savored the complex flavors playing over his tongue.  Since the night Mike had called him out on his drinking, he hadn't indulged much, so he was enjoying the Macallan even more than usual.   

"Damn," said Trevor, licking his lips, "that's some good shit."  His glass was empty, and Harvey poured him some more. 

"Try sipping it," Harvey advised.  "You like cooking so much, I bet if you tried, you could appreciate all of the flavors, and how they meld together."  He took a sip.  "Oak, sherry, ginger, licorice.  Leather." 

Trevor raised an eyebrow and took a small mouthful.  After a moment, he swallowed.  "Hm.  Caramel.  Honey.  Coffee.  And...tobacco?" 

Harvey shrugged.  "Who the hell knows?  It's fucking spectacular.  That's all I care about." 

They drank together for a while in a silence that wasn't exactly friendly, but that bordered on companionable.  Harvey began to relax, the alcohol dulling the edge of panic that had been slicing into him earlier.  "So, you like to cook, huh?  Mike does too.  He's not bad.  He made some kind of rigatoni thing for tonight.  You want some?" 

Trevor grinned.  "I could eat." 

Harvey felt Trevor's eyes on him as he pulled the casserole dish from the refrigerator, filled two plates with the already baked pasta dish, placed them in the microwave and set the timer.  "I was supposed to bring a salad home with me, but I forgot."  He drank some scotch and frowned.  "That's a lie.  I didn't forget.  I wanted to pretend to myself that this night wasn't going to happen." 

The microwave timer dinged and Harvey passed Trevor a plate, keeping the second for himself.  After he handed over a fork, they both dug in.  A few minutes passed, and Harvey looked over at Trevor.  "So?  What do you think?  How did he do?" 

Trevor shrugged.  "Not bad." 

Harvey studied him, watching the way he shoveled pasta into his mouth, as if someone might grab it away from him at any second.  A habit learned in prison, Harvey guessed.  Trevor's throat moved as he swallowed, his biceps bunched when he lifted a napkin to wipe his lips.  "What would you have done differently?" Harvey asked. 

"Huh?" 

"With the dish," Harvey clarified.  "The rigatoni.  What would you have done to make it better?  Or just different?" 

Trevor propped his fork on the side of his plate and leaned back, taking a sip of Macallan.  He winced, waving a hand between the food and the drink.  "Not a good pairing."  He was grinning, but sobered as he caught the serious look on Harvey's face.  "I don't know what I'd have done differently.  Added some nutmeg.  Cut back on the salt.  Maybe threw in some wine, or chocolate." 

"Chocolate?  Really?" 

Laughing, Trevor finished off his glass and reached for the bottle.  "Shit, I don't know.  Savory's not my thing.  I'm a sweets guy all the way." 

Harvey laughed with him.  "A sweets guy?  Tweak that a little and you'd have yourself a great pickup line." 

Trevor's laugh trailed off.  "It's not a joke to me, Harvey.  It may not be 'The Law,' or Harvard, but it's what I like.  What I love, actually.  You can belittle me all you want, if it makes you feel better, but don't expect me to apologize for pursuing what I love." 

It was clear he was talking about more than cooking.  Anxiety tried to poke through Harvey's pleasant Macallan buzz.  He felt guilty, suddenly, for the things he'd said to Trevor, for the way he'd treated him, tried to cut him down to size.  He tossed back his drink and reached for the bottle, which Trevor still had clenched in his fist.  Their hands met, and something zinged between them, unexpected and confusing.  Gently, Harvey pried the neck of the bottle away from Trevor and poured them both another portion.  He drank, watching Trevor, and being watched in return. 

"I'm sorry," Harvey finally said, voice soft.  "I was out of line." 

"You were an ass." 

"An ass.  Yes.  I will concede that point, if you want to get technical about it."  He leaned across the bar and clinked his glass to Trevor's.  "But you kind of were, too." 

Trevor huffed out an unwilling laugh.  "I blame Mike."  He frowned.  "Do you think he's okay?  He's been gone a while." 

"I'm sure he's fine.  He's probably either at the bar across the street, or downstairs playing gin rummy with the doorman." 

"Should one of us maybe call him?" 

Harvey glanced at his watch.  "Based on prior experience, he needs at least another hour to pull himself out of his sulk." 

"Oh, he sulks a lot, does he?  Doesn't say much for your relationship."  Trevor smirked at him. 

"Shut up."  Harvey was smiling when he said it, but Trevor wasn't wrong.  "You know what, Smuggy McSmuggerson?  Bumps in the road are perfectly normal, so don't go getting any ideas." 

Trevor rolled his eyes and muttered, "Sounds like someone's sleeping on the couch tonight." 

"No."  Harvey shook his head.  "That's not how it works with us.  If something needs to be fixed, we fix it." 

Holding his drink, Trevor stood up and walked restlessly into the kitchen, so that Harvey had to turn around on his stool to keep an eye on him.  Trevor opened and closed cupboards and drawers, examining spices and utensils, pots and pans.  "You've got a nice setup here," he said over his shoulder.  Do you actually use all this stuff?" 

"When I'm forced to." 

Trevor drank and  _tsk_ 'd.  "So fucking unfair.  It would take maybe half a year's pay for me to accumulate all this prime equipment." 

"Leave Mike alone and you can take it all." 

Trevor turned around.  He stood perhaps half a foot from Harvey and seemed to tower over him.  His face had darkened.  When he spoke, his voice was deadly soft.  "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." 

Harvey had said the words flippantly, not really meaning them, or expecting agreement from Trevor.  He wished now that he could take them back.  They were ugly, dismissive words, devaluing Trevor and Mike and Harvey's relationship with Mike all in one grotesque offer.  Harvey grimaced and closed his eyes, one hand going out reflexively to touch Trevor's arm.  "I'd appreciate that.  You called it earlier.  I'm an ass." 

Trevor's arm felt tense under his hand.  He opened his eyes and found Trevor staring down at him.  "So why say shit like that?  I mean, who says that?" 

Harvey shrugged helplessly.  "People like me.  Asshole corporate attorneys with too much ego."  He looked down at the glass he clutched in his hand.  "And too much expensive booze.  Look, Trevor, in my line of work, everything's a negotiation, a duel to the figurative death.  And I -- "  His jaw went tight, but he forced himself to continue.  "I don't do trust very well.  Mike -- he's taught me a lot.  I'm doing better, I think.  I trust him.  Or I thought I did.  But you kissed him.  He kissed you.  And I...."  He trailed off, looking at the floor, horrified that his vision had gone blurry with unshed tears.  "I don't know what to do with that," he said huskily.  "It fucking rips me up inside." 

He felt a hand on the side of his neck, but couldn't make eye contact.  Trevor sighed, gave a grunt that sounded annoyed, and then before Harvey realized what was happening, firm lips pressed against his, moving seductively and invitingly, and Harvey made a noise in his throat -- joy or terror, he couldn't be sure -- gripping Trevor's arms hard and opening his mouth.  He managed to stand before Trevor spun him and slammed his back against the wall next to the spice rack.  Tiny bottles tumbled to the floor, some exploding on impact.  Trevor attacked his mouth with his own, licked inside of Harvey's mouth, jammed a knee between his legs, held his face in two strong hands.  Scents of cinnamon and thyme and vanilla wafted up around them.   

Harvey surrendered to Trevor's assault for long minutes.  His mind blanked out, ruled by pure lust.  When Trevor pulled and turned him, shoving him toward the bar where they had just shared a meal, Harvey began to struggle for dominance.  He wrangled Trevor's t-shirt over his his and off his arms, tossing it on the floor. 

"Wanna fuck you," he growled in Trevor's ear as the other man thrust his hand down the front of Harvey's jeans -- how had they come unfastened? -- to palm him roughly through his briefs.  "Wanna bend you over and -- "  He broke off when Trevor removed his hand, grabbed Harvey's chin and squeezed his face so hard it hurt. 

"Fuck, no," Trevor grated.  He shoved at Harvey and he found himself pinned between Trevor and the edge of the bar.  "No one fucks me.  No one tops me.  Not ever.  Not negotiable." 

Harvey's heated reply never came.. Instead, he froze, arrested by the tortured expression on Trevor's face.  He looked angry, and nauseous, and afraid, panicked out of all proportion to the situation.  With a sudden, sick feeling, Harvey guessed at the cause of Trevor's reaction.  Mike had mentioned the scars that Trevor carried on his body, but evidently he had other scars from his time in prison that weren't visible.  Harvey nodded slowly, and the pressure on his chin eased.  "Understood," he breathed, and leaned in for a gentler kiss, hands smoothing down Trevor's arms. 

The white hot heat of moments earlier had receded, and Harvey's brain managed to turn back on.  He would have backed off immediately, but Trevor was responding to the kiss with such needy fervor, that Harvey couldn't seem to deny him, and couldn't deny himself the satin over steel feel of Trevor's muscular back under his hands, or the rough, almost violent thrusts of Trevor's hips which invited Harvey to hump his leg and moan into his mouth, which remained soft and pliant under his.   

_This is insane._  

That is what he was thinking when a door slammed and was followed by the enraged squeak of Mike's voice.  "What.  The.  Actual.  Fuck?" 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait! My dog didn't eat my 'homework,' precisely, but she did knock my laptop over and crack the screen. Bad dog! And the repair place is taking it's own sweet time, but I finally got a loaner of sorts. So I blargled this out kind of fast, and I hope it's not too nuts, and/or filled with dumb mistakes.
> 
> Working now on an update for Art of Memory. So much pent up writing! Have a beautiful day, and thanks for sticking with my story!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, beautiful readers, for the comments and kudos. I love how people are voting for who they want to end up together. Regretfully, some are bound to be disappointed by how it turns out, but that's the way the fanfic cookie crumbles.
> 
> (I'm putting a "warning" at the end of this chapter, which could be considered a spoiler, but which you can read now if you are concerned about certain seck-shual situations.)

Earlier, after Harvey and Trevor nearly came to blows, and Mike stormed out of the apartment, he had completed two full speed-walking circuits around the block. When he had managed to calm down, he stopped into _Meeker's_ for a beer, which he drank slowly while he replayed the ugly scene between the two men, the awful things they'd said to one another, and the looks on their faces of rage and impending violence.... He suppressed a shudder.

What if things had escalated after he'd left? What if one or both of them were hurt right now, and bleeding all over Harvey's expensive furniture?

_That's their fucking problem. I tried to handle this the right way -- the mature, adult way_.

But once the worry started, it wouldn't leave him. He was angry, sure, but that didn't mean he wanted either of them injured. If that happened, he’d be responsible, since he had insisted on bringing them together.

He drank down the rest of his beer, considered ordering a second one, then muttered, "Fuck it," and slid off his bar stool. He walked quickly, tamping down the sudden need to break into a run, pushing down panic over what he would find at home.

When he opened the door to the apartment, he heard a loud scuffling coming from the kitchen and rushed forward, slamming the door behind him and fearing the worst. Instead of two men fighting, however, what he saw shocked him to his core. Harvey and Trevor were kissing. No, not just kissing, they were devouring one another. Trevor's shirt had come off, and he had a hand down the front of Harvey's open jeans while Harvey rutted against him.

"What. The. Actual. _Fuck_?" he cried, and might have laughed at the speed with which the two men sprang apart, except that he was too busy trying not to stroke out.

He noted somewhat distantly that Harvey had gone white as parchment. "Mike," he croaked, "I'm not...I don't...I'm sorry. Jesus, I'm sorry."

Trevor was silent, but appeared more in control of himself than Harvey. He leaned down and calmly picked up his t-shirt from the floor, and pulled it on.

On legs that barely worked, Mike staggered to the living room and collapsed into the armchair. "I...I have no words."

"Mike," Harvey whispered, following but stopping behind the sofa. He, too, seemed beyond words. Mike almost felt sorry for him. For someone with such crippling trust issues, this had to feel like a massive personal failure.

Trevor came over to stand next to Harvey, and they both looked like such guilty partners in crime that Mike had to shut his eyes. When he did, the scene he had just witnessed replayed itself on the inside of his eyelids. Mixed up with his confusion, anger, jealousy and shock was the unmistakable realization that the sight of them together like that had been fucking hot.

_I am such a disturbed individual._

He tried to sort out all of his feelings, but Trevor interrupted his thoughts. "Mikey," he said softly, "let's talk about this."

Anger won out. "Talk about what, exactly? The fact that I've been eaten up inside with this impossible choice I have to make, only to come back here to discover that I'm no longer even part of the equation? That is beyond messed up."

Harvey said nothing, just stood there gripping the back of the sofa as if that was all that kept him from collapsing. His face remained pale, his jaw twitched, and his eyes were desolate pools of black staring back at Mike.

It was Trevor who answered Mike, moving around the sofa to sit, hands falling loosely between his knees. "Don't be mad at Harvey, Mike." Harvey made a sudden, involuntary movement, but stayed where he was. "See, after you left, we ended up talking, just like you wanted us to."

Mike gave a grating bark of laughter. "No, I wouldn’t say that's where you ended up."

Trevor shook his head. "Just listen for a minute. Me and Harvey, we both laid things out pretty honestly, and suddenly it seemed so clear to me. Whoever you choose, the other guy is going to end up miserable. Worse, I think maybe you would be miserable, too, if you had to give up one of us. So I got this crazy idea, more of an impulse really, and yeah, maybe we should have discussed it first, but let's just think this through: what if none of us had to make a choice? What if we shared you?"

"Shared me?" His voice climbed to an undignified squeak. “What am I? The last slice of pizza?”

"Hear me out, Mikey. I hadn't really considered it seriously until Harvey was talking to me. He was telling me how jealous it made him that I kissed you, and I feel the same, because I know he's been with you -- is with you. So then it occurred to me that in order to make it work, it couldn't just be about us sharing you, we all had to share each other." He looked back and forth between Mike and Harvey, as if waiting for them to shout out their immediate agreement.

"You know what I think?" Harvey spoke suddenly, his voice deadly and quiet. He had moved to the side of the sofa and was glaring down at Trevor. "I think you staged the whole thing. I think you knew Mike wanted to stay with me, and you figured if you couldn't have him, you might as well blow up our relationship on your way out the door."

Trevor met his glare with a level gaze. "You're determined to think the worst of me, aren't you? But, go on, Harvey. Tell me you didn't like it. Tell me you weren't five seconds away from letting me throw you up on the counter to fuck you raw."

Mike nearly choked at the image, and at the notion that Harvey would cede control to another man. He watched Harvey's hostile expression, and nearly choked again when he saw it gradually slip away, to be replaced by rueful acknowledgement of what Trevor had said. He glanced at Mike and shrugged. "He caught me off guard, sweetheart, but it's true: I was more than willing in that moment. I lost my head, and all I can do now is hope that you’ll to forgive me."

"But...." Mike was almost afraid to ask. He had to know, though. "What does this mean? Are you telling me you agree with Trevor?"

As if sleepwalking, Harvey moved to sit on the sofa next to Trevor. His gaze skittered past Mike to stare out the window. "No. I don't know. Maybe?" He focused back on Mike. "Bottom line? I want like hell to keep you, but at the same time, I want you to be happy. Is that what it would take? Would the three of us, together, make you happy?"

The inside of Mike's mouth went dry. He wasn't sure if it was a good -- or even sane -- idea, but it held a lot of appeal. Just thinking about sharing a bed with the two of them had him half hard.

“Mike?” Trevor’s voice was hesitant but hopeful.

Mike jerked to his feet and began pacing in front of the two men. “Shit. You’re both out of your damn minds. Maybe I should leave, and you two can live happily ever after together.” They both voiced protests, but he ignored them, trying to block them out as he paced and muttered. “Holy crap. I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people move so fast from hate, to hate sex. And don’t think I missed that nearly empty bottle of scotch on the kitchen counter. Drunk hate sex. That’s some classy shit. I’m not sure I want either one of you right now. But, hey, you guys want me to decide? Fine, let’s settle this right now.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a quarter, holding it up to show it to Harvey and Trevor. “Let’s say heads for Trevor, tails for Harvey, and if it’s neither, we all troop back to the bedroom together and go wild on each other.”

“Mike,” Harvey said softly, “you need to calm down. This is no way to decide your future – all of our futures.”

“Why not? It’s just sex. Apparently we’re all interchangeable. It’s not like any hearts are on the line, right?” He glared at them, not expecting an answer, but still disappointed when none was forthcoming. He held up a fist, the quarter balanced on his thumbnail. “So let’s see what the fates have in store for us.”

He flicked the quarter into the air, adrenaline giving it more lift than he had intended. All three of them watched it nearly hit the ceiling and then fall and fall and slip through Mike’s waiting fingers to bounce on the ground and roll. Mike couldn’t move for half a second. As the coin hung in the air, it had occurred to him that maybe he didn’t want see the result, but now as it wobbled across the floor, he darted after it, but he wasn’t fast enough to stop its unerringly straight path to the heating vent, where it slid through the cover and disappeared from sight.

Mike blinked. Behind him, Harvey and Trevor were silent. In that moment, something eased inside of Mike, a tension and tightness and sense of impending grief that he’d carried since he first ran into Trevor at Columbia. Fear evaporated, and he wanted to laugh, but he held it in as he turned back to face the two beautiful men who both wanted _him_ – and how crazy and improbable was that? They both wanted him, and now he didn’t have to choose.

Trevor sat on the edge of the sofa, a wide, shit-eating grin on his face. Harvey looked more self-contained, sitting back with his legs crossed, eyes serious and searching as he watched Mike.

“Gentlemen,” Mike said, pulse speeding up as he realized what he was about to agree to, “it would seem that the Universe has spoken.” He allowed himself a tiny smile. “I’ll be in the bedroom.”

When he turned and headed down the hall, it took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to break into a panicked run.

******

Harvey wondered if Trevor was as stunned by the turn of events as he was. He felt his gaze on him, and turned to meet it. “Is this what you wanted?” Harvey asked him. “Did you have this all planned out before you stepped through my front door?” He tried to work up some righteous anger as he questioned Trevor, but he knew he was just as much at fault.

Trevor shook his head, smiling sadly. “That would make me a fucking genius, and I think we both know I’m not even close to that.” He laid a hand on Harvey’s knee, stroking it lightly until the tension began to dissolve. “I’m sorry, man. Sure, we both got caught up in the moment, but I’m the one that started it.” He gave a short laugh. “You’re a great kisser.”

Harvey’s mouth quirked up on one side. “I know.”

Trevor laughed again, shaking his head. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Yep.”

They were both quiet for nearly a full minute.

“He’s in there waiting for us,” Harvey finally said. “You should go first.”

Trevor’s eyes widened. “What? Why? I thought it was settled. All three of us.”

Harvey sighed, and a shiver went through him at how surreal this conversation felt. “Both of us pouncing on him together might be too intense. And…maybe you two have some catching up to do.”

“Harvey. That’s – ” Trevor’s voice broke and he paused as if struggling to regain control. “Thanks, man.”

“You have five minutes.” Harvey tried to sound stern. When Trevor started to rise, Harvey placed a hand on his arm, halting him. “Mike…he likes it when you take control. And…his nipples…you should….” He swallowed painfully. “You should play with his nipples because he enjoys that a lot. And pull his hair, as hard as you like, because – ”

“Harvey.”

Harvey let out a breath, forcing himself to shut up. “I know. Sorry.”

“I got this, man.”

“Sure. You’ve got this. I’ll give you five minutes, and then I’ll join you. And don’t either of you dare come before I get there.”

“No, Harvey. I promise we won’t.” Trevor hesitated, and then leaned over and kissed Harvey, letting his firm, soft lips linger, his tongue barely licking inside of Harvey’s mouth before he pulled away. “You’re a surprising guy. And you’re not going to regret this.” He gave a half grin. “Probably.”

As Harvey sat alone in the living room, he could only hope that Trevor was right.

******

Trevor walked into the bedroom and halted, mouth suddenly dry. Mike lay naked on the bed, stretched out on his back, one leg bent at the knee, looking nervous and turned on and impossibly sexy. He gaze darted behind Trevor, and then back to him. “Where’s Harvey?”

Ignoring the sting of hurt at the question, Trevor pulled his shirt over his head, threw it to the side, and unfastened his jeans. “He’ll be here in a minute.” He was surprised to realize that his hands were shaking. He toed off his shoes and dragged off his pants, briefs and socks, until he stood naked in front of Mike. For too long, it had seemed like he would never experience this again. He wanted to savor the moment, but forced himself to remember that in a few minutes Harvey would join them, and this simple reunion would become complicated in ways he couldn’t predict.

“Get over here,” Mike whispered, smiling.

Trevor didn’t waste any more time. He settled next to Mike on the bed and wrapped his arms around him. “I missed you, baby,” he murmured against Mike’s lips. He pressed his mouth to Mike’s, tasting his sweetness, inhaling deeply to pull his unique scent inside of him. He felt the tentative touch of Mike’s tongue against his lips, and he opened up eagerly, drawing Mike’s tongue into his mouth, rubbing his tongue along Mike’s, breathing him in until his head began to spin. “Mikey,” he whispered, and rolled them both so that he was on top, straddling Mike’s thighs.

Mike’s hands held his waist, hot and stroking. “God, Trevor,” he breathed, “Look at you. You’ve been working out.”

Trevor laughed, the sound catching in his throat. “It’s been too fucking long,” he groaned, diving in for another kiss, grinding his cock against Mike’s. “Oh my fucking God, you feel so good.” He dragged his mouth across Mike’s chin and down to his neck, nipping lightly. Mike moaned under him. The moan turned to a keening whine when Trevor bit down harder. Remembering what Harvey had said, Trevor pinched one of Mike’s nipples and watched in fascination as he bucked up, gasping for breath. Trevor bent lower, leaning in to bite down on Mike’s other nipple.

“Ah! Fuck yes, Trevor. Harder.”

Trevor obliged him, before licking around the pebbled nipple and lifting his head. “You like that, baby? You like it a little rough?” The thought both surprised and excited him.

Mike looked up at him through half-closed eyes and nodded, almost purring. “Whatever you want, Trevor.”

“He loves these,” said Harvey, and a pair of padded leather cuffs landed on the bed next to Trevor’s shoulder. He glanced up at Harvey in surprise, not having heard him come in. The older man was half undressed, and must have been watching Mike and Trevor for a short while.

Trevor picked up the cuffs and frowned down at a red-cheeked Mike. “Really, Mike? You’re into this?”

“I…” Mike stretched his arms over his head. “Please, Trevor?” His voice was thick with both desire and what could have been fear of ridicule.

Trevor hesitated, wondering what he’d gotten himself into, but he nodded slowly and buckled the cuffs around Mike’s wrists, feeling something unfamiliar stir inside himself, some dormant urge to restrain and control. He grew harder, his pulse quickening. When he started to attach the cuffs to the headboard, he heard Harvey’s quiet command from behind him. “Put him on his knees first.”

Trevor gave Harvey a questioning look, noting that he now stood next to the bed fully naked, and he looked good, elegantly muscled and completely at ease, except for his sizeable cock, which stood at proud attention.

“His knees,” Harvey repeated patiently, and Trevor realized he’d been staring with his mouth half open. He rolled off of Mike and helped him flip onto his stomach and up onto his knees. He attached the cuffs to the headboard with the connecting chain, and then because he simply couldn’t help himself, he ran a hand down the long line of Mike’s back and cupped his muscled ass, stroking and squeezing. Excitement surged through Trevor, and an unexpected thrill at having Mike naked and at his mercy.

But of course, Mike was at Harvey’s mercy as well.

The bed dipped as Harvey sat down on the other side of Mike. “He looks good like this, doesn’t he?” His hand trailed down Mike’s back, ending up as a mirror image to Trevor’s on Mike’s other cheek. “Mike, what’s your safe word?”

Trevor’s eyes widened.

Mike tugged at the chain and moved his hips restlessly. “Brooklyn.”

Harvey raised his hand and brought it down in a sharp smack. Trevor jumped in surprise, while Mile groaned and humped air. A red, hand-shaped mark appeared on his ass. “Go ahead,” Harvey urged Trevor. “Spank him. He loves it.”

Trevor laughed uncertainly and shook his head. “Uh, no. I don’t think I could ever hit Mike, no matter how much he likes it.” The thought made him ill, but at the same time he couldn’t deny how turned on Mike looked, so eager and wanton. A surge of melancholy threatened to swamp Trevor. This wasn’t the boy he remembered. This Mike had been shaped by other men – who knew how many? They’d discovered urges and desires that Trevor had never suspected resided inside his shy, sweet lover.

Harvey leaned across Mike to caress Trevor’s face. While Mike watched them over his shoulder, Harvey kissed Trevor, tongue sliding in and out in a sensuous greeting, and Trevor felt a tingle all the way down to his toes. “Understood,” said Harvey. “And that’s just fine. We all need to learn our limits, our likes and dislikes. We’ll put that firmly in the dislike column for you.”

He kissed Trevor again, rough and dirty. Underneath and between them, Trevor heard Mike’s breathing speed up and grow harsh, and then a low, moaning whine erupted from him. “Guys. Please….”

Harvey pulled away with an indulgent chuckle. “Begging already, sweetheart? I think I know how to keep you quiet. How would you like Trevor’s big, pretty cock in your mouth?”

Mike groaned. “Yes. Oh, God, yes please.”

Trevor’s breath caught at the sound of Mike begging for him.

“Hear that?” Harvey asked. “Slide up underneath Mike with you back to the headboard, so he can suck you off.

Trevor wasn’t sure how he felt about being ordered around by Harvey, but he couldn’t find fault with the idea of feeling Mike’s lips and tongue and throat working him, so he maneuvered himself into position. He had to lie a little bit sideways to avoid the chain, but Harvey helpfully shoved a pillow under his back to make him comfortable. When Mike sucked the head of his cock into the wet heat of his mouth, Trevor had to struggle to remember to breathe. He was tempted to shut his eyes and just _feel,_ but then he would have missed the sight of Harvey rolling a condom onto his thick, veiny cock, slicking himself up with lube, kneeling behind Mike and pushing slowly into him, all the while keeping eye contact with Trevor.

Mike _groaned_ around Trevor’s cock and Trevor nearly came right then.

Harvey’s hand grasped Trevor’s ankle, capturing his attention. “Not yet,” said Harvey, thrusting into Mike. “Not until I say you can come.”

Caught in Harvey’s dark, heavy gaze, Trevor found himself nodding. “Understood,” he agreed. ( _Yes sir,_ his brain supplied.) “Not until you say so.”

It wasn’t easy though, especially when Mike groaned again, from deep in his gut, as if the sound of Harvey controlling Trevor like that was even better than being handcuffed and spanked on the ass.

******

Mike couldn’t think, could barely breathe, and certainly couldn’t remember why he’d even briefly, even for a second, thought this was not the greatest idea in the world. He was filled up in the best way possible. Trevor’s cock filled his mouth and throat, and Harvey’s cock filled his insides, ramming into him so perfectly, like a fucking metronome. Strong, warm hands touched him everywhere – head, face, back, ass – and sometimes he knew whose hand it was, and sometimes he didn’t, and after a while it no longer mattered. He felt controlled, cherished. Safe.

Voices murmured above him, mostly Harvey instructing Trevor in what pleased Mike.

“Push down on his head. He can take it. Hold him in place. Make him choke on you.”

“God,” Trevor said, voice shaky, “that’s incredible. I can’t – _fuck_ , his tongue – I’m gonna come.”

Harvey’s hips sped up, the _Adagio_ transforming into an _Allegro_. “Get your hand under him and jack him off.”

Mike felt Trevor’s hand grip his cock and he whined in the back of his throat at how perfect it felt. He raised his eyes so he could see Trevor’s face and it was beautiful. Sweat sheened his forehead, his pupils were huge and black, his mouth slack and almost drooling. One hand rested on the back of Mike’s head, fingers digging into his scalp and massaging him. The other one was working Mike’s cock, jacking him hard and fast, the friction setting Mike on fire. He knew better than to come without Harvey’s permission, but he was fuzzily surprised that Trevor was holding back, when he was obviously so close. He hummed around Trevor’s cock, just to see him throw his head back against the headboard, exposing the damp line of his throat. Mike wished he could lick Trevor’s sweaty skin to taste the salt.

Then Harvey’s tempo flew right past _Vivace_ to _Presto_ and it was all Mike could do to keep in position, to keep bobbing his head and using his tongue to tease the underside of Trevor’s cock. It became even more difficult when Harvey hit his prostate and kept hitting it, as if someone had painted a bull’s eye on it.

“Harvey,” Trevor grated warningly.

Sounding winded, Harvey said, “Make Mike come, and then you can come.”

Trevor’s hand paused, and his thumb rubbed over the head of Mike’s cock, teasing him. With difficulty, Mike managed to focus back on Trevor’s face, and saw his old cocky grin back in place. “You gonna come for me, Mikey?” he gasped, before palming his cock again, his strokes accelerating to match the pace of Harvey’s thrusts.

Mike trembled, ready to explode, and when Harvey leaned in and whispered breathlessly in his ear, “Come,” he did just that. He lifted his head for fear of biting Trevor, and howled at the intensity of his release.

“Mike,” Harvey snapped, “get that cock back in your mouth. Now.”

Mike practically dove for Trevor’s cock and swallowed it back down. He could feel himself drool as the head battered the back of his throat. If he’d had a hand free, he would have played with Trevor’s balls, but he had only his throat and tongue and teeth, so he licked and swallowed and hummed and every so often let his teeth scrape just slightly over Trevor’s cock, making him gasp and squirm.

“Fuck his mouth,” Harvey growled. “Do it, Trevor.”

Trevor sat back on his heels and yanked Mike’s head up by his hair, ramming his cock up and into his mouth, and Mike took flight, eyes shut, head light and floating, letting both lovers take their pleasure from his as they saw fit. He yanked on the chain, loving the burn and stretch in his shoulders, the jingle of metal links, the feeling of being restrained. Then Trevor’s grip tightened on his head, he held Mike immobile, thrust up once more and released inside Mike’s mouth, shouting wordlessly as he did so. Mike did his best to swallow it all, but Trevor’s cock was still too deep. He choked and sputtered, and cum leaked from the sides of his mouth and down his chin.

And he loved every second of it.

He felt Harvey give a few more punishing thrusts and then freeze above him. He leaned down and bit Mike’s shoulder, muffling his guttural moan of pleasure, hips stuttering as he rode out his orgasm. Mike let Trevor’s spent cock slide from between his lips, and collapsed against his thigh, too exhausted to wipe his face, or worry about the tears leaking from his eyes and down his cheeks.

“Shit,” Trevor hissed. “Mikey? Are you okay? Did we get too rough?”

Mike just smiled happily against Trevor’s sweaty flesh. He didn’t even have the strength to wince when Harvey pulled out of him.

“He’s okay,” Harvey murmured. “Let’s get him out of these cuffs and get him cleaned up.”

The pressure on Mike’s shoulders eased and he flopped to the bed. Distantly, he felt himself being turned, and then wet warmth slid across his face and his stomach and groin at the same time. He slit his eyes open to see Harvey and Trevor working together to clean him. He shut his eyes again and let them do what they wanted, utter contentment washing through him.

He drifted into a light doze, but woke not long afterwards to the sound of a whispered argument.

“No,” Trevor said, raising his voice. “I have to go. I work early – ”

“And I said I’d gladly give you cab fare            so you’ll arrive in plenty of time. You shouldn’t leave yet. Mike needs us. Both of us.”

Mike sat up, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Trevor? You’re leaving?”

Both men turned to him, and both looked angry. A fully clothed Trevor spoke first. “Don’t worry Mike. Harvey’s just freaking out for no good reason. Like I told him, I have a job. I have responsibilities.”

“You have a responsibility to Mike.”

“What?” Trevor looked so scornful as he barked out the word that Mike’s guts clenched with hurt. “I think Mike will be fine.” He shrugged off Harvey’s restraining hand, seemed to debate with himself for a few seconds and went to sit on the bed next to Mike. “This was great, Mikey. You were great. I have to get out of there, though. I need to do some thinking.”

Mike sat up, frowning. “What are you talking about? This was all your idea. You just said it was great, which is, like, the understatement of the century. What just happened was incredible – _mind-blowing_.” Trevor refused to meet his eyes, and Mike looked to Harvey for confirmation. “Harvey?”

Harvey didn’t get a chance to answer. Trevor leaned down and gave Mike a there-and-gone kiss that tasted like an apology. “I’ll call you, Mikey,” he mumbled. He stood up, and then he was gone.

Mike glared at Harvey, sudden tears filling his eyes. “What the hell did you say to him?”

Harvey sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Nothing. I only invited him to spend the night with us.” He gestured at the bed. “Here. In the same bed.” He walked over and stretched out next to Mike. “Something spooked him, that’s my best guess. Damned if I know what it was.” He trailed a hand down the side of Mike’s face and then gathered him in his arms, cradling his head against his chest.

Mike let himself be comforted by Harvey, but he couldn’t banish the memory of Trevor’s panicked expression as he left them, and already the bed felt unbalanced and wrong without Trevor there. “I don’t understand,” he whispered as sleep started to overtake him. “It was his idea. It was his fucking idea. What did we do wrong?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Warning: At least one commenter implied that they would be bothered by the notion of a threesome. At this time, I would like to direct your attention to the tags, which have been clear and unchanged from the beginning. *Ahem* This is the chapter where those tags come to fruition, as it were. If you feel compelled to leave now, kindly collect your things and make your way to the exit in an orderly fashion.)
> 
> If you're still here, thanks for reading. More soon.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI - I added a new tag -- mention of past rape. Nothing extended or graphic, just a brief suggestion of awfulness.

That night, instead of sleeping the contented sleep of the well fucked, Mike tossed restlessly, dreaming about a shitty apartment with roach traps and paper thin walls, and himself screaming at Trevor that he shouldn’t leave him alone. He kicked off the covers twice, and probably muttered in his sleep, because Harvey finally threw a leg over his and murmured in his ear to hush, that he was all right – that everything would be all right.

When he woke fully and couldn’t get back to sleep, it was still dark out, but he knew what he had to do. He slipped out of bed, took a quick shower, and tried to dress in the dark as silently as he could. He wasn’t quiet enough, however. A lamp next to the bed clicked on, revealing Harvey sitting on the edge of the bed naked, hair rumpled, rubbing his face, and looking as if he hadn’t slept any more peacefully than Mike.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” Harvey asked. “Where are you going?”

Mike fastened his jeans and sat on the bed next to Harvey to pull on his socks. “Brooklyn.” At Harvey’s stricken look, Mike hurried to clarify. “No. Shit. _No._ Not my safe word Brooklyn. I’m going to Brooklyn, to that bakery Trevor works at. I have to talk to him.”

“Well, that’s a relief – the first part, anyway.” Harvey wrapped an arm around Mike’s waist and kissed his temple. “Why do you need to race over there so early in the morning? What’s the urgency?” He tugged Mike closer, kissing down his neck. “It’s 4:30. Come back to bed.”

With a huff of impatience, Mike disentangled himself and stood up. He stared at the floor, replaying the previous night in his head, flushing as he remembered how great it had been – until suddenly Trevor left, and it wasn’t great anymore, it was confusing and wrong. “I need to know why he left. If you won’t tell me, I’ll ask him myself.”

Harvey sighed. “I don’t know why. I tried to get him to admit what was wrong. He just kept saying he had to be up early, which, while a legitimate enough reason, doesn’t explain the panic I sensed coming off of him in waves.”

Mike looked up to find a troubled expression on Harvey’s face. “Panic? What are you talking about? From where I was sitting – or kneeling – he seemed completely into everything we did. And it was his idea to begin with. Why would he panic? Did I miss something?”

He could tell from the tight twist of Harvey’s mouth that he was holding something back. Experience had taught Mike not to push, but to wait for Harvey to sort things out in his own mind. So Mike forced himself to be patient, even though his instincts told him to finish dressing, jump on his bike and go have it out with Trevor.

Finally, Harvey held out a hand, and Mike went to him, clasping his hand and sitting next to him, watching him expectantly.

“When Trevor and I…” Harvey began. He cleared his throat and tried again. “While you were out, and Trevor and I were….”

“Trying to suction one another’s kidney’s up through your airways?” Mike supplied helpfully.

“Yes. That. Right in the middle of… _things_ …Trevor became upset. From his reaction, I got the impression that he has issues -- probably from his time in prison.”

Mike shivered and pushed closer to Harvey. “Issues?”

Instead of responding to Mike’s question, Harvey asked, “Back when you two were together, did he ever let you top him?”

“Sure. A few times. Not that often, but we experimented, as horny teenagers will do. Eventually we both figured out that we preferred it the other way around.” He thought about what Harvey was trying to tell him, and what he knew about Harvey. “Let me guess: you let it be known that you would like to fuck him?”

Harvey nodded.

“Ah. And that’s what upset him?” Mike frowned. “But that doesn’t make any sense. He never seemed to…. _Oh._ ”

“Yeah,” Harvey agreed. “Oh.”

Mike let the implications settle in, and felt queasy, suddenly wishing he’d pushed Trevor for more details on his time in prison. “So, if that freaked him out, maybe he has other ‘issues,’ as you put it.”

Harvey hauled him into a full hug, and Mike felt the comforting dig of Harvey’s chin on the top of his head. “Maybe. Normally I’d say those were his secrets to keep, if that’s what he wants, but in order to make this arrangement between all of us work, you’re going to need to get him talking.” After a few seconds, he added, “Do you want it to work?” Mike cringed inside at the worry and uncertainty he heard in Harvey’s voice.

“Do you?” he asked against Harvey’s chest. “I mean, didn’t it feel right? I’m not crazy, am I? That was amazing last night. Right?”

Harvey gave a soft grunt. “God, yes. But amazing sex doesn’t necessarily translate into a viable, lasting relationship. You know as well as I do that two people together are complicated enough. Add a third into the mix and….” He shrugged. “I just don’t know.”

“I think,” Mike started, paused, and tried again. “It feels like we should try. It feels like we’d be missing out on something that has the potential to be incredible. If we can only make a few adjustments, figure some things out, everything could slot into place so perfectly.” He pulled away from Harvey so he could see his face. “Does that make any sense?”

Harvey looked exhausted and so sad that Mike thought his own heart might break. “Can you tell me one thing, sweetheart?" Harvey asked. "If it turns out that Trevor can’t handle this after all, what will you do?”

Sudden anger spiked through Mike and he surged to his feet. “This again? This fucking choice? We settled this last night. The Fickle Quarter of Fate settled it for us.” Under his breath, he muttered furiously, “Don’t tempt me to ignore it.”

Without waiting for Harvey’s reaction to the ugly little jab, he grabbed his sneakers and strode into the living room, standing by the front door and hopping back and forth to get into his shoes. He had just managed the second one when he found his back shoved to the door, and Harvey pressed nakedly against him with his face inches from Mike’s, hands clutching his shoulders.

“Don’t you even think,” Harvey growled, “of not coming back to me.” He gave Mike rough shake. “You’re mine. I’m yours, and your mine, and if we can find a way to add Trevor into our little circle of possessive pronouns, I say great, I’m all for it. I’m all in. If anybody screws this up, it won’t be me. So you go to Brooklyn, and do whatever it takes to drag Trevor’s ass back here. Shit, I don’t even care if he moves in with us. If he’s up for that, we can try it. If making Trevor happy makes you happy, I’ll gladly suck his dick and bend over for him every single day if that’s what it takes. Because I – ”

He ground to a halt, gasping as if winded, and Mike was shocked to see the glisten of moisture in his eyes. “Because,” Harvey continued, enunciating carefully, “I fucking love you, baby.” He sucked in a huge gulp of air and repeated, “I love you.”

For long moments, Mike could only stare at him, until he realized that he’d been silent for too long, and Harvey’s vulnerable expression was starting to close off again. Mike broke into a smile. “I would like to see him fuck you, actually. That would be hot.” He made Harvey wait five more seconds before he added, “I fucking love you too.”

“That’s good,” Harvey said, once more in control, fighting a smile. “Although you didn’t need to leave me hanging there for quite so long. But it’s good. It’s really good.”

He kissed Mike, tongue sliding inside Mike’s mouth to claim him in the way that made Mike crazy. Although achingly thorough, the kiss was too brief, and when Harvey lifted his head and stepped away from him, Mike was breathing faster, eyes trying to flutter closed.

“Trevor thinks I’m a great kisser,” Harvey remarked conversationally.

“He’s….” Mike cleared his throat and pushed away from the door. “He’s not wrong.” Dazed by what had just happened, by the words finally, _finally,_ spoken aloud, he stumbled around the room, looking for his cell phone and his messenger bag and his jacket and his keys. When he had everything he needed, he looked up to find Harvey watching him with an unreadable expression. Doing his best to ignore Harvey’s gloriously naked form, Mike gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile, one hand on the doorknob. “Any words of advice?” he asked.

After a few seconds of consideration, Harvey replied, “Do you need any? Or want any?”

He thought about that and then shook his head. “I will come back to you. I promise. Because I’m not going to be the one to screw this up either.” Without waiting for an answer from Harvey, he opened the door and left the apartment.

 

******

 

The warmth and familiar smells of the kitchen soothed and comforted Trevor. He pulled trays of cookies and bread and pies and cupcakes from _Torreccino’s_ ovens, transferring them to cooling racks, and then returned to measuring flour and sugar and yeast and spices, and let the industrial mixers do their job. He worked on autopilot, glad that it was only Tuesday, and there were no extravagant orders needing to be filled, only the usual, mundane weekday fare.

His mind was busy alternating between replaying the previous night and berating himself for being an idiot. He would have preferred to blame someone else for the whole fiasco, but since he had kissed Harvey, and he had suggested the threesome, the only person to blame was himself.

In the heat of the moment, it had seemed like an excellent idea and the perfect solution. The sex had been unbelievable. Being with Mike was like a dream, something he’d never thought he would have again, and Harvey….He shivered at the memory of Harvey’s voice directing him on how to treat Mike, how to please him. It should have seemed wrong, but it had been exciting in ways he’d never considered.

And having Mike – his sweet little genius angel – respond like such a _slut_ …It sounded wrong when he turned the word over in his mind, but he couldn’t think of a better way to describe it. Mike had so obviously loved being treated that way, inspiring Trevor to push him further, find Mike’s limits, and his own as well, all of it exquisitely orchestrated by Harvey. Part of him argued that he should have resented Harvey’s presence, should have chafed at his control, but somehow his inclusion had heightened the experience. They were like three wildly different ingredients that had been mixed together and unexpectedly brought out the best flavors in one other.

He rolled out another batch of almond cookie dough, smiling at his fanciful thoughts. The smile soured as he remembered what happened afterwards. Seeing Mike lying there, so wrecked, with tears leaking from his eyes, covered in cum…It had triggered memories in Trevor that he thought were buried safe and deep inside himself. Suddenly, it was him lying there, not Mike, angry and shattered, wanting to kill someone, wishing he was dead.

He shivered and pushed the memory away. It was years ago, during his first weeks in prison. He’d gotten his revenge – eventually. He’d survived, and he had the scars to prove it. Last night, though, he’d nearly had to puke at the thought of Mike like that, suffering through what he had. He knew it wasn’t the same. He _knew_ it. But it freaked him out enough that now he doubted his resolve to follow through on his clever little solution to their problem.

He had no idea what he could say to Mike, if he ever got up the nerve to call him. Life was so much simpler when you avoided other people, and he’d learned that there were worse things than being celibate. He rubbed his forearm over his forehead, deftly added slivered almonds in Artie's distinctive pattern to the crescent-shaped cookies, and then slid the two pans into the oven. He was debating between finishing the onion bread or starting on the lemon tarts, when he heard loud banging from the front of the shop.

He shook his head and brushed his floury hands on his apron. Artie’s kid had actually showed up a few minutes early, but it sounded as if he’d lost his key again. Artie seemed to believe Joey would straighten up eventually and learn some responsibility, but Trevor had his doubts. He put up with him, for Artie’s sake, but if he had a choice, he’d be tempted to shove Joey’s head into one of the mixers for a few minutes – or hours – to see if his brains could be unscrambled.

He walked to the front of the store, ready to let Joey know how he felt about being interrupted, but when he yanked the door open, all of the angry words froze in his throat. Mike stood outside, cheeks pink from the early morning chill in the air, his hand raised to knock on the door again.

“Mike?” he said stupidly. He’d barely registered the fact that Mike looked pissed off, when he found himself shoved backwards. “The fuck?”

 

******

 

Mike followed Trevor into the bakery, slamming the door behind him. The shop was dark, but he’d seen light seeping from the back, and knew Trevor was in there. It had taken a good five minutes of pounding on the door and shouting Trevor’s name before he got his attention, and by then he had worked himself up into a good fit of righteous anger.

He gave Trevor another, less forceful shove, which did nothing more than temporarily move Trevor’s powerful shoulder back. He stayed firmly planted in front of Mike.

“What are you doing here?” asked Trevor, his confused expression darkening into anger.

“Oh, I don’t know. Just felt like a little early morning bike ride. Why do you think I’m here?”

Trevor glared at him for a few seconds before turning on his heel and stalking to the back of the store and through a set of swinging double doors. Mike let out a frustrated huff and followed him. As worked up as he was, he still halted to breathe in the heavenly aromas that filled the kitchen: cinnamon and yeast and vanilla being the most overwhelming. Without speaking, Trevor lifted a lump of dough out of one of the mixing bowls and plopped it into onto a flour-covered board. While Mike watched, he began to fold and pound on the dough, occasionally adding more flour.

Mike grew interested in spite of himself. “Don’t you have machines that do that?” he asked.

Trevor grunted and shot him a look. “Artie prefers to knead his bread by hand. Says it makes it rise more.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah, probably. Artie knows his stuff.”

Mike spotted a wooden stool in the corner of the room and dragged it over so he could sit down. “We need to talk.”

Trevor kept kneading, throwing his entire upper body into it, and showing off his biceps, which strained against the sleeves of his t-shirt.

“Are you sure you’re supposed to beat it to death like that?”

Pausing, Trevor turned to look at him. “Say whatever it is you have to say, Mikey.”

Instead of answering, Mike took a closer look around the kitchen. He spotted half a dozen wheeled metal racks, half of which were already filled with trays of baked goods. Curious, he asked, “How early do you start, anyway?”

Trevor gave a harsh laugh. “You came all the way over here to ask me that? Okay. I normally start around 3:30 or 4:00, but last night I came straight here after I left your place. It seemed like a better idea than trying to sleep after…well, it just seemed like a better idea.”

Mike let that sink in, thinking about how to continue. An uneasy silence stretched between them, while Trevor divided the dough, covered the smaller mounds with floured cloths, and retrieved two pans of cupcakes from the cooling racks. He grabbed a small bowl and started measuring butter and powdered sugar and vanilla for what Mike guessed was going to be frosting for the cupcakes.

His tired brain was unable to come up with a graceful way to broach the subject, so finally Mike simply blurted out, “Did we do something wrong? Did I?”

Trevor paused in the middle of a bout of furious whisking and stared at Mike. “What? No. No way. You were amazing. And Harvey. He wasn’t what I expected. He’s… I can see why you’re with him. You two definitely fit together.” The wire whisk hung over the bowl, stiff peaks of frosting sticking to it. “Kind of like we used to fit together. But…” He stirred more slowly, without enthusiasm. “He gives you what you need. I can see that.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly. “It’s cool, Mikey. I’ll step aside.” Using a teaspoon, Trevor tasted the frosting and grimaced. “This is terrible.”

“Let me taste.” Mike held his hand out, and waited until Trevor passed him the spoon. He made a show of tasting and deliberating for a moment. “It’s not bad. Passable. Maybe a little too sweet. I think it’s just missing something to spice it up. I bet if you added the right ingredient, it would make all the difference.”

Unexpectedly, Trevor laughed.

“What?” Mike demanded.

“Ah. Nothing. I was thinking practically the same thing just before you got here. And thinking how stupid it was.”

Mike cocked his head to one side and took a closer look at his old friend. “First of all, yeah, as metaphors go it’s kind of lame. But if you were thinking that….” He trailed off.

Trevor cleared his throat, as if he intended to finish Mike’s thought, but instead he turned his back and rummaged through an overhead shelf lined with ingredients. Mike didn’t see what he added to the frosting, but when Trevor started whisking again and turned back to face him, his expression was set into a frown.

“Last night was fun,” Trevor said, “and hot as hell. I had a good time. But I’m afraid it’s not going to work. I know it was my bright idea, but long term, I think, I mean, I can’t….” He took a huge, gulping breath of air, and for the second time that morning, Mike was faced with a man he loved on the verge of tears.

“Trevor,” he murmured, and stood slowly, taking the whisk and bowl from Trevor’s shaking hands and setting them on the countertop. He wrapped one arm around Trevor, and used the other to pull his head down to his shoulder. For a moment, Trevor’s entire body remained stiff with tension, but Mike could feel the moment he let go and relaxed into his embrace. Tremors shook him, and a cry of anguish burst out of him, immediately smothered against Mike’s shoulder. “Tell me,” Mike whispered. “Why did you run away from us?”

It took long, difficult minutes for Trevor to get the story out. He had to stop a couple of times to remove pans of cookies from the oven. When someone named Joey arrived, Trevor told him he was taking a break, and dragged Mike out the back door and into the alley. The both leaned against the rough brick building while Trevor described the assault he had endured in prison, and how last night had triggered memories of it.

“Like PTSD?” Mike asked, trying to understand.

Sighing, Trevor shrugged. “Maybe. It’s not something I think about. And I’m not crazy. I know the difference between what we did last night and… _that._ It just freaked me out, okay? And I can’t afford that. I have to stay steady and even and keep moving forward. I can never fuck up. I can never do something stupid enough to send me back there. So I need to keep it all under control. Do you see what I mean?”

Mike didn’t. Not really. But he nodded in agreement anyway. He moved closer to Trevor and took his hand in his. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t be with us.”

Trevor groaned, banging the back of his head lightly against the wall. “Yeah? What if I flip out again? What if I can’t handle it and I hurt one of you?”

Mike knew, deep in his bones, that would never happen, but he said, “I have a safe word. You should have one too. And Harvey. We can slow things down, feel our way, see what works and what doesn’t. Maybe it would help, having a place where you can lose control safely. Harvey and I have that, and so could you.” A sideways glance at Trevor’s face revealed a still troubled look. “What?”

“You’re happy. You and Harvey. I don’t want to mess that up.”

“Don’t make me break out the crappy ingredients metaphor again.”

A reluctant huff of laughter. “Anything but that.” They were quiet for a few minutes. “But seriously, Mikey. If it ain’t broke…. It’s not is it?” The last was said with a faint wistful hope.

“No. Not even close.” But it wasn’t Harvey and himself that needed fixing, he suddenly realized. It was Trevor. Mike didn’t say that out loud, and they lapsed into a brief silence.

“Does Harvey know you’re here?” Trevor asked.

“Yes.”

Trevor turned and pressed himself against Mike, pinning him to the wall. “Does he approve? What would he say about this?” He licked slowly down the side of Mike’s neck and pulled their groins tightly together.

“He’d…uh…he’d probably…he might want to watch. Or he might want to join in.”

Sliding his hands down into the back of Mike’s jeans, Trevor caressed and kneaded his bottom. “Would he allow me to do this? Or would he order you to get on your knees for me? Would he tell me where to put my hands? How to kiss you? What makes you scream the loudest?”

Mike was finding it difficult to think with Trevor’s hands on him, but he forced himself to pay attention to what Trevor was really asking. “Would that bother you? Did it bother you last night?”

Trevor gave Mike’s ass one last squeeze and pulled his hands free to hold Mike loosely around the waist. “You know it didn’t. I’m just afraid that Harvey is too used to being in charge. I went with it last night, but all the time? I’m not sure I could handle that.”

Mike bit his lower lip, wondering how much he should say. “Harvey says you can fuck him.”

“What?” Trevor sputtered.

“Every day. If that’s what you want.”

“Bullshit.”

Mike kissed Trevor’s neck. “I’m just repeating what he said. There was also something about bending him over and him sucking your dick, although probably not at the same time.”

Mike could feel Trevor’s cock start to harden against his thigh and knew he had won the argument, at least for now.

“I suppose,” murmured Trevor, drawing Mike closer, “that we could give it another try. See how things go.”

Mike lifted his head and adjusted his angle so he could kiss Trevor on the mouth. He let his own lips go soft and pliant, allowing Trevor to take control.

Both of them were breathing erratically when the back door came open with a slam and Joey yelled, “Hey, Trevor, quit dry humping your boyfriend and get back in here. These cupcakes aren’t going to frost themselves.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.” Trevor hugged Mike close, groaning softly. “So how’s this supposed to work, baby? Should I make an appointment? Or just pop in, whenever?”

Mike remembered Harvey’s offer, but didn’t want to spook Trevor by moving too fast. “Why don’t you pack a bag, come over after work tonight, and we’ll all figure it out from there.”

Trevor pulled back so they could see one another’s faces. Trevor still appeared wary. “Like…an overnight bag, or what?”

“Sure. Or something bigger.” _Or every single goddamn thing you own,_ he wanted to say, but instead settled for, “Whatever feels right.” He planted one more quick kiss on Trevor’s mouth before they went back inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. (And apologies to any actual bakers out there for inevitable errors.)


	8. Chapter 8

Harvey didn’t know what he expected when he opened the door to the apartment at just past ten o’clock that night. Two bodies curled up on the couch together? The sound of a headboard hitting the wall in frantic rhythms? Emptiness and quiet?

The last thing he expected was to find Trevor sitting on his couch, fully dressed, alone, looking nervous and determined.

“Where’s Mike?” Harvey asked, undoing his tie, tossing it and his jacket over the back of one of the barstools, and rolling up his sleeves.

“I sent him to bed. He seemed pretty worn out.”

Harvey fought down the jab of resentment at the thought of someone else telling Mike what to do. He’d spent much of the day talking himself off the ledge, trying to convince himself that he hadn’t moved too fast, revealed too much, or made a huge strategic error in allowing Trevor into their life. In the end, he’d concluded that he couldn’t back away from this without disappointing Mike, so he might as well make the best of things.

With that in mind, he asked, “So, are you all moved in?”

He was met with a blank stare and lowered brows. “Huh?”

“Oh. Didn’t Mike…I thought….” Harvey narrowed his eyes and then took a seat next to Trevor, his mind scrambling to catch up with whatever was going on here. “Is there a reason why you’re out here, and not in bed with Mike?” As openings went, it was clunky as hell, but he was weary from the long day and not at the top of his game.

Trevor shrugged and ran a hand through his hair, looking every bit as exhausted as Harvey felt. “He didn’t want to do anything without you here, not yet, anyway. Said you have some kind of trust issues.” He gave Harvey a shrewd look. “Been burned before?”

Harvey shifted to face Trevor, smirking. “Maybe someday I’ll trust you enough to tell you that story.”

Trevor gave a nearly inaudible laugh, then frowned. “You think we’ll know each other long enough for that to happen?”

Their gazes caught and held, and Harvey was struck by how young and vulnerable Trevor looked all of a sudden. He thought about Trevor’s history, of him being abandoned and stuck in the foster care system. From what little Mike had told him, their relationship had been the most stable and long lasting that Trevor had ever had. Part of Harvey – the attorney/predator part that served him so well at work – wanted to exploit the weakness he saw, to turn it against Trevor and make him doubt himself and question his influence on Mike.

Before Mike, he might have done precisely that, but right now the better part of him wanted nothing more than to banish the shadows from Trevor’s eyes and coax a cocky grin back to his mouth. He scooted closer, until their thighs touched, and leaned in to place a soft kiss on Trevor’s lips. He could feel Trevor’s full-body tension, and drew back, studying him.

“Are you planning to spend the night?” he asked.

Trevor licked his lips and nodded. “If that's okay. I took tomorrow off.” He ran has hand up and down Harvey’s thigh, almost absently. “So, if we do this, how will it work? Will it always go like last night? I mean, I get that you and Mike have worked out a certain…dynamic, where you call the shots and he does exactly what you want him to do.”

“And that bothers you?”

“What?” His hand stopped, resting near Harvey’s hip. “No. It was freaking hot. And kind of, I don’t know, beautiful." He cleared his throat as if embarrassed. "It’s just….I don’t….” His hand moved restlessly once more, teasing Harvey’s inner thigh. “Where do I fit into that?”

Harvey felt himself begin to harden at Trevor’s touch, and captured his hand to keep it still, so he could concentrate on the conversation. “You fit in just fine last night,” he said. “Are you telling me you didn’t enjoy yourself?”

“Fuck no. I mean, I did. You need to understand something, though. You may have issues with trust, but I have issues with control.” He laughed wryly. “It might have something to do with my little four year vacation upstate, and the lack of control I had over…pretty much everything. I’m not saying it’s off the table, you doing your take charge thing, but I might need some balance.” He looked down at their joined hands and gave a tug. Harvey let go.

“You’re saying you want control?”

“Maybe, yeah. Sometimes. Could you live with that?”

The question had been in the back of Harvey’s mind for most of the day. Despite what he'd said to Mike that morning, he still wasn’t sure if he knew the answer, but he’d at least reached the point where he wanted to find out. If anything, it would be a novel experience. “Try me,” he said.

“What?”

“Here we are, just the two of us. Let’s call this a test.”

Trevor appeared uneasy. “A test? What, of me?”

“Of me. Of us. How we are together, without Mike here serving as a buffer.” He sat back, trying to relax, hands loose at his sides. “So, go ahead. You’re in charge.”

“Harvey….”

“Don't look so worried. Let’s just see where this goes.”

Silence fell, while Trevor seemed to weigh the pros and cons of what Harvey was offering. Finally, he nodded once. “Do you want a safe word?”

Harvey had never used one before. He’d never seen the need. Now, he was tempted to reject the idea, probably out of misplaced pride, but it occurred to him that if he was serious about ceding control to Trevor, he shouldn’t balk at the first suggestion out of the other man’s mouth. “All right,” he agreed. “Let’s go with…Lannister."

Trevor raised one eyebrow and nodded. "Lannister. Got it." Harvey saw him breathe in and out slowly and then, "Stand up," Trevor ordered.

Right away, Harvey felt an instinctual resistance to Trevor’s words, but he let out a slow breath of his own and stood up.

“Stand over there. In front of me. Good. Now strip.”

Dueling sensations of resentment and exhilaration ran through Harvey. He tamped down the resentment and considered the other as he unbuttoned his shirt. Yes, exhilaration, but something more. Relief? He tossed his shirt to the side and skimmed his undershirt over his head, wondering, why relief? As he unfastened his pants and unzipped them, he acknowledged with surprise that it felt good to yield control for once. Weird, but good. He felt lighter, unburdened, as if some of the pressures of the last few days had begun to ease. He kicked off his shoes, slid off his pants and boxer briefs, and stood in front of Trevor naked and ridiculously turned on. Trevor’s dark gaze roamed all over him, and Harvey thought he could see approval and a desire that matched his own.

A slow smile transformed Trevor’s face. “Come here,” he whispered.

Harvey moved to stand in front of him, flinching when Trevor reached behind him to fondle his ass. Trevor’s hands slid lower and pulled Harvey’s cheeks apart. Harvey felt a thick, blunt finger rub over his hole and he gave an involuntary shiver.

Trevor used the tip of his finger to probe gently in and out, asking, “How long has it been?” His mouth was inches from Harvey’s dick, his warm breaths wafting over him, teasing him.

“A while,” Harvey admitted, staring past Trevor’s shoulder. When Trevor pushed his finger in up to the first knuckle, Harvey winced. “A really long while,” he amended.

Trevor withdrew his finger and kissed the tip of Harvey’s cock in an oddly tender gesture. He licked the slit and gave an approving _mmm._ It was a minor struggle for Harvey not to clasp the back of Trevor’s head and shove his cock down his throat, but he managed, with only a low grunt of disappointment when Trevor stood up and moved away, motioning to the couch. “Get comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

_Get comfortable_. Harvey mulled over that instruction for a few seconds before simply sitting with his elbows on his knees, staring down at the floor and wondering what he’d gotten himself into.

Trevor didn’t waste any time, arriving back moments later with lube and condom in hand. “Mike’s still sleeping,” he said, followed immediately with, “Get on your hands and knees.”

Harvey shuddered at the low command, and began to understand the shivers and tremors that ran through Mike whenever Harvey issued an order. He rearranged himself, and then was forced to wait, listening to the soft sounds of Trevor undressing somewhere out of view. The couch dipped behind him and warm, rough hands caressed his back and ass, smoothing down his legs and separating them as far as was possible given the width of the couch. He rested his head on his arms and closed his eyes, taking slow, even breaths to keep himself calm and relaxed.

He wished he’d taken a moment to put on some music. It was too quiet, with only the sounds of Trevor’s harsh breathing behind him, and the low hum of the refrigerator coming from the kitchen. A slick finger probed his entrance, and the scent of Trevor enveloped him: shampoo, faint, spicy cologne, vanilla, yeast, and cinnamon. The finger pushed inside of him, firm and careful, and a groan escaped him.

“How’s that feel, Harvey?”

He gave a noncommittal hum. Trevor worked the finger inside of him and Harvey pushed back, welcoming the pressure and the burn.

“No,” said Trevor. “Talk to me. Tell me how this makes you feel.”

Harvey hesitated, and then murmured, “It feels good. Really good.”

“You want more?”

Suppressing a sigh, Harvey nodded. “Yes,” he bit out.”

The finger withdrew. “Yes, what?” Trevor waited, and Harvey knew what he wanted, but he stayed silent. With no warning, Trevor’s hand slapped his ass hard.

“Hey,” Harvey protested, starting to pull away from Trevor, who hooked his arms around Harvey’s legs to keep him in place.

“Harvey,” said Trevor in a scolding tone, “who’s in charge here?”

Resentment had resurfaced, and Harvey wrestled it back down. “You are.” He relaxed his head back down onto his folded arms and pushed his ass out, presenting it to Trevor again.

“Okay. Good. Now tell me what you want.”

“I…I want you to fuck me.”

Two fingers worked their way into him, massaging and stretching. “Keep going. How do you want me to fuck you?”

“I— _ohgod_ —I want you to shove your dick inside me and ride me, fast and hard.”

Trevor fucked his fingers in and out of Harvey, his other hand holding his hip. His voice was low and urgent behind Harvey as he said, “Tell me how much you love this, how much you’re going to love having me inside you, giving it to you the way you deserve, you smug son-of-a-bitch.” He pushed in extra hard, and Harvey gasped.

“Yeah. Fuck, yes. I love it.” He rocked back and forth into Trevor’s rough thrusts. “But is that all you got? Come on. Fuck me. Do it.”

The fingers pulled out, and there was a brief pause. He heard Trevor opening the condom wrapper and putting it on, breathing hard all the while. Then Trevor leaned over his back, the head of his cock nudging Harvey’s entrance. “Beg me.”

“Ah.” Harvey squeezed his eyes shut. “Please,” he whispered.

“What’s that? I didn’t hear you.” Glee filled Trevor’s low voice.

Harvey lifted his head. “God, Trevor, you fucking piece of shit bastard. Fuck me already. _Please_.”

“Like you deserve. Say it.”

It almost proved too much for Harvey. _Almost_. He swallowed hard, though, breathed in through his nose and exhaled as much of his tension as he could. “Please. Please fuck me like I deserve. Hard and rough. Make me feel it.” His thighs had started to shake from the effort of staying still. “ _Please._ ”

Apparently satisfied, Trevor leaned down to plant a kiss on Harvey’s shoulder, at the same time forcing the head of his cock past the tight ring of muscle. At first, his advance remained slow and careful. The harsh gasp in Harvey’s ear told him just how much Trevor was holding back. He pulled out and thrust back in, gaining more ground. It hurt, but Harvey made himself relax and push back.

They found a shallow rhythm, settling into it for a short while, until Trevor growled, “Come on, Harvey. Open up for me.” He bit down on Harvey’s shoulder and with a quick, almost savage thrust, slid home.

For an instant, Harvey couldn’t breathe. Distantly, he heard a sound come out of his throat that started as distress and morphed into a low, needy groan. “Fu-fuck,” he stuttered.

Trevor held still inside him, reaching underneath to lightly stroke Harvey’s cock, kissing his neck and scraping his teeth across his shoulder. “Harvey,” he breathed. “Damn, you feel so good.” He pulled almost all the way out before plunging back in. His damp chest slid across Harvey’s back. “You ready for a good, hard ride?”

Harvey shivered. “Yeah.” He lay his head back down on his arms. “Do it.”

Trevor let go of his cock, used both hands to grip Harvey’s hips, and braced one foot on the floor. He fucked in and out of Harvey, starting slow and building steadily to an athletic, almost punishing pace which had Harvey shoved up against the end of the couch, clutching the armrest to keep himself in position. Trevor grunted with each rough thrust, and Harvey couldn’t stop his own unrestrained, escalating moans. When Trevor lifted up and sat back, changing the angle and hitting Harvey’s prostate, Harvey cried out and humped into the couch.

“There,” Trevor grated in triumph, “right there.” He pulled Harvey’s head back by his hair and increased his pace, the couch shaking and creaking beneath them as they moved wildly together, their grunts and moans punctuated by curses, sweat mingling.

Harvey managed to get a hand underneath himself, and started jerking off furiously.

“Come on, Harvey,” Trevor urged. “Come for me. Come, you arrogant prick.”

“Shut the fuck – ” Harvey began, but at that moment two things happened: his orgasm gripped him and ripped through him so suddenly that he froze, mouth falling open. At the same time, he looked up and saw Mike standing near the hallway, naked, wide-eyed, and masturbating like a fiend.

Trevor must have caught sight of him at the same instant. “Mike,” they gasped in unison. Trevor froze for half a second before his hips jerked spastically and he came, shouting hoarsely.

Trevor collapsed on top of Harvey, pinning him to the couch. Both of them shuddered with aftershocks. Finally, not moving off of Harvey, Trevor slipped his cock free and they lay there, sheened with sweat and panting hard. After perhaps a minute, Harvey opened his eyes, squinting towards the hallway.

“Mike?” he asked weakly. When there was no answer, he raised his head. Mike was still staring at them, hair rumpled and mouth hanging open. “Come here, sweetheart.”

Mike hesitated, but then he walked to the couch and knelt on the floor by Harvey’s head, gaze traveling up and down their bodies. Harvey reached out and touched his face.

“You okay?” he asked Mike, who nodded. “Did you come?”

At that question, Mike broke into a grin and nodded more vigorously. “Fuck, yes. Like, twice.”

On top of him, Trevor shook with silent laughter.

Mike kissed Harvey and then stretched up to kiss Trevor. “That was easily the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Trevor started to sit up, digging an elbow into Harvey’s back and making him groan. “Harvey’s a pretty hot fuck. You ever tap that, Mike?”

Harvey sputtered as indignantly as he was able in his sated condition. “Excuse me?”

“No,” said Mike, but I damn sure will now. I call next.”

“Oh, Christ,” Harvey muttered. “What am I? The newest ride at Funland?”

Trevor slapped him on the butt. “Be right back.” He disappeared down the hall, presumably to dispose of the condom.

Harvey and Mike stared at one another. “You’re amazing,” Mike whispered.

Harvey shifted around so that he was sitting up. Mike rested his cheek on his knee and Harvey petted his head. “It wasn’t exactly a hardship, having sex with that one.”

Mike lifted his head, and Harvey felt a pang at the uncertainty that had crept into his eyes.

“Was it better than….?”

Harvey silenced Mike with a finger over his lips. “Don’t.”

“I rocked his world,” said Trevor, strutting back into the room.

“Maybe,” Harvey allowed, “but your gloating could use some work.”

“And I’m sure you’re an expert at that,” Trevor snarked back, but he was grinning happily as he dropped heavily onto the couch.

A wave of exhaustion hit Harvey and he bit back a yawn. “Let’s get cleaned up and go to bed.” He stood up and pulled Mike to his feet.

“We’re going to need a bigger shower,” Mike said as he trailed Harvey to the bathroom.

And possibly a bigger bed, Harvey mused. There was still plenty to be sorted out, logistics to be arranged, feelings to untangle, but that would all have to wait until tomorrow.

Once they’d all had a quick shower, they climbed into bed. It seemed to Harvey that they arranged themselves naturally, as if they’d done it hundreds of times before, with Mike in the middle, his back snugged up against Harvey’s chest, and his head on Trevor’s shoulder. Mike fell immediately into an exhausted sleep.

Harvey met Trevor’s gaze over the top of Mike’s head and was surprised to find his eyes glittering with unshed tears.

“This is going to work,” Harvey whispered.

Trevor nodded, swallowing noisily. “I…thank you, Harvey.”

Harvey didn’t ask him what for. It was simple and complicated at the same time, but he knew what he meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta post and run, but thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a while. I wanted to get it as right as I could. Meanwhile, the other story I was writing seemed to bleed into this one a little, and so I've changed the tag on this one from Light BDSM, to BDSM. So if that's not your cup of tea, you might want to skip this chapter.

The following afternoon, Mike received a text from Harvey asking, _Is Trevor still there_?

He was. Mike had taken a sick day off from the messenger company, and had spent it with Trevor, lying plastered to each other on the sofa, watching horrible daytime television, and not talking about what had happened the previous night. They read Harvey’s text and exchanged a quizzical look. _Yes_ , Mike texted back.

 _Ask him to stay for dinner. We all need to talk_.

Trevor shrugged and then nodded in the affirmative.

 _K_ , Mike replied.

“What do you think that’s about?” Trevor asked him.

“I have no idea.” He laid his head back on Trevor’s chest. “Well, actually maybe I do. There’s something I didn’t get around to telling you yesterday.” He felt Trevor go tense beneath him. “Harvey sort of invited you to move in with us.”

“Sit up, Mike.” Trevor didn’t sound pissed, exactly, but he didn’t sound happy either. Mike struggled into a seated position and faced Trevor. “Now, tell me what you’re talking about.”

“There really isn’t much to tell. Before I went to see you, he said he’d be willing to give it a try.”

Trevor scowled at the far wall. “Why the fuck would he do that? He barely knows me.” He shifted his gaze to Mike. “And you. You kept it from me.”

Mike grabbed the remote and turned off the television. “There’s no reason to freak out, Trev. As for Harvey, I don’t know. I admit it surprised me, but I can guarantee that he meant what he said. And I didn’t tell you yesterday because I didn’t want to scare you off.” He waited two beats. “Did I scare you off just now?”

Trevor scrubbed a hand through his dark hair, gaze unfocused. “No. I don’t know.” Mike held his breath, waiting for Trevor to continue. He seemed to think hard for a minute, and then said, “This whole situation is so unreal. Good things like this don't happen to me. It's kind of hard to believe.”

Mike grabbed his knee and gave it a light shake. “Look who you’re talking to. I get it. And I think Harvey does too. It might look like he’s got everything, and has it all figured out, but I've known him for a while now, and believe me when I tell you that he’s got some empty places inside of him, some…I don’t…voids, just like us. I saw the look on his face last night when you were fucking him, and yeah, he was yelling and cursing, but his face…I’ve never seen him looking so...in the moment or whatever. Like for once he wasn't planning every action and guarding every thought. Even with me he does that to a certain extent. Whether he admits it out loud or not, I believe he needs you just as much as I do. And you need both of us."

Still looking troubled, Trevor grabbed for Mike's hand and held it in a loose grip. "Is it really that simple? Sounds like between the three of us, there are a lot of messed up issues to deal with. And that's not even taking all of the testosterone into account."

"From where I'm sitting, it would be so worth it to try." Mike climbed into Trevor's lap, straddling his thighs and grinning. "And from where I'm sitting now...." He kissed Trevor, slow and soft, opening for Trevor when his tongue prodded his lips. Their tongues glided together, moist and wet and hot. Mike's eyes drifted shut and he made a needy sound in the back of his throat.

Trevor ended the kiss first and smiled at Mike. "There it is," he murmured, "that sound I love so much." He caught Mike’s mouth in another long, heated kiss.

This time, Mike broke the kiss first. “Come to bed with me,” he said.

Trevor stroked a hand down the side of Mike’s face. “You sure Harvey won’t get mad?”

“I know for a fact that he won’t.”

Trevor gave a short laugh. “You asked him already? So you’ve been planning this all day, huh?”

“Longer than that, but that’s another story.” Mike slid off his lap and stood up. “Let’s go, big guy.”

Mike didn't wait for Trevor, trusting that he would follow. He was standing by the bed, already half undressed when Trevor joined him. They continued undressing in silence, each one assessing the other’s body, as if still looking for changes that had occurred in the years they’d been apart.

When they were both naked, Trevor advanced on him, resting his hands on Mike’s hips. “Still too skinny,” he murmured, and kissed Mike’s temple. “Do you…should I…what do you want, baby?”

“You.”

A grin from Trevor. “I can see that.” He ran a finger up the underside of Mike’s erect cock. “What I mean is, I want to give you what Harvey gives you. I still don’t think I could ever hit you with my hand, but what else have you got?”

“Trevor, you don’t have to – ”

“Just show me. I’ll decide what I can and can’t do. All right?”

Mike studied him for a moment, but he seemed sure of himself, so Mike shrugged. “Well, then, let me introduce you to Harvey’s toy drawer.” He grabbed Trevor’s hand and pulled him over to the black dresser in the corner. He opened the top drawer, and together they stared down at the collection of items Harvey had collected.

“Wow,” breathed Mike, “we haven’t even used some of this stuff yet.” He held up a complicated looking metal contraption that looked suspiciously like a miniature, penis-shaped cage. “What in the hell…?”

“I’d think you’d be familiar with all this stuff.”

Mike couldn’t help it. He blushed. “Ah. I’m not actually allowed to look in here. Harvey says he doesn’t want to ruin the element of surprise. Says it heightens my reactions when I don’t know what’s coming next.”

Trevor gave him a gentle push, forcing him back a couple of steps. “Then quit being such a bad little boy and quit looking.”

Mike watched him paw through the drawer, and had to practically bite his tongue to keep from making suggestions, telling himself that it would be interesting to see what Trevor picked out on his own.

Trevor caught him watching and gave an annoyed scowl. “Go sit on the bed,” he said.

Smiling to himself at how much Trevor sounded like Harvey just then, Mike did as he’d been ordered. Trevor’s body blocked his view now, and he couldn’t see which items he paused over to inspect in detail, and which ones he discarded right away. Finally, seeming satisfied, he turned around and Mike saw that he’d selected a riding crop, cuffs, a butt plug and nipple clamps.

Trevor returned to the bed and laid everything out on the mattress next to Mike. “Good?” he asked.

Mike could only nod at first. “Good,” he managed to get out. “So very…much…good.”

An amused snort from Trevor. “I’m probably going to need help with some of these, to make sure I’m using them right.”

It crossed Mike’s mind to suggest that they wait for Harvey, who would probably be delighted to instruct Trevor in the many and subtle ways to torment Mike, but he didn’t want to come off sounding as if he didn’t trust Trevor. So he said, “Sure. Of course.”

“Cool. Which one first?”

Mike licked his lips. “Cuffs. You can have me either kneeling or on my back, your choice. Since you’ve picked the crop, though, kneeling probably works better.” Although he could recall one time on his back when Harvey had cuffed his wrists to the bed and then tied his ankles to his wrists, exposing his butt, and worked him over for nearly an hour with a flogger, leather strap and crop. He shook his head to clear those thoughts away and focused back in on what Trevor was saying.

“Go ahead and kneel then.” When Mike was on his knees, Trevor lifted Mike’s arms, one at a time, cuffing them so that they were spread wide apart. Mike tested them, feeling the delicious strain in his upper back. “Is that okay?” Trevor asked him, and Mike nodded. “Oh, you better tell me your safe word.”

“Dorito,” Mike answered, smiling as Trevor cracked up laughing for a few seconds. “Shut up. You can either do the butt plug next, or the clamps.” He looked over his shoulder to see Trevor had lifted the plug and was examining it. “Narrow end goes in first.”

“Well, duh.” Trevor gave him a comical-looking scowl.

“Better safe than sorry." He blew out a breath, struck by how surreal this conversation with Trevor felt. He was so used to remaining passive and letting Harvey to all of the work. "Okay. You should open me up with your fingers first. Use lots of lube.”

Trevor grabbed the lube from the nightstand. Mike let his head hang down between his shoulders and shifted so that his knees were further apart. At the first touch of Trevor’s wet finger against his tight hole, he sighed and relaxed his entire body. Trevor’s technique was rougher and less careful than Harvey’s, but it also felt wonderfully familiar.

Trevor leaned up to whisper in his ear. “How’s that? You like that, baby?”

Mike nodded, and then grunted when two fingers thrust into him and nudged his prostate. He rocked back to meet Trevor’s fingers, and kept rocking until Trevor placed a hand on his shoulder. Three fingers filled him up now, fucking him slowly. Mike had to struggle to remember that he was supposed to be instructing Trevor. “That’s good. Lube up the plug before you insert it.” He sighed when Trevor’s fingers withdrew, and sighed again in unalloyed pleasure when the plug was pushed inside of him. “All the way,” he encouraged. “Past the – yeah, that’s good.”

“Huh,” said Trevor. “That’s…wow.” He gave it a tug and a push, and then twisted it inside of Mike a couple of times. “Doesn’t’ it feel weird?”

Mike’s laugh was a little bit breathless. “You can find out how it feels next time. Do the clamps now.” He sat back as much as he was able while being cuffed to the headboard, so that his nipples were accessible to Trevor. It put more strain on his arms and shoulders, but he was used to it. “Pinch my nipples so they’re nice and hard.”

Trevor knelt behind him, arms encircling Mike’s chest, and did as he’d instructed. Mike gasped at the sensation. “Now screw the first one on. That’s it. A little tighter. Okay, do the other one.” The pain seemed to flow through him like a warm wave, and after all of his months with Harvey the feeling was so tangled up with his pleasure, that he gave a luxurious shiver.

“That’s it?” Trevor asked, sounding skeptical. “And you like that? It feels good?”

All of Trevor’s questions were making it impossible to completely let go. “Trust me. It feels good. Sometimes Harvey plays with the clamps, flicks them, or attaches a chain between them so he can tug on it. You should do whatever you want. Use me however you want. That's kind of the point.”

Trevor spent a few minutes toying with Mike’s nipples, making him squeal and moan and yell. Then he picked up the riding crop and gave it a few experimental swishes. “Anything I should know about this thing?” he asked.

“Start slow. A warm up period is usually a good idea. Maybe test it on your arm or leg to see how it feels. I can take a lot of pain, so don’t feel like you have to hold back. And strike pretty much anywhere you want, even right on my hole.” He settled back down onto his knees and breathed in and out a few times. After a minute or so, when nothing happened, he glanced over his shoulder to find Trevor staring down at the crop, his gaze far away. “Trevor?”

Trevor looked up, their eyes meeting. “This…this is enjoyable for you? It doesn’t hurt you?”

“Oh shit yes, it hurts. But I…I don’t know if I can explain it to you right now. The pain...I take it because it's for you. It's a gift I can give you. A way for me to submit, and to serve you." From the look on Trevor's face, Mike knew he wasn't explaining himself well. "You know what? Forget all that. I fucking love it, that's all you need to know." Trevor still didn't look convinced. "Try it this one time, and if it's not for you, it's not for you." He faced forward again and waited, letting Trevor make up his mind.

He heard a whish and a _thwap,_ following by a low grunt of pain. "Ow," said Trevor. "You're not kidding. That does hurt."

Mike wiggled his butt and lifted it higher in the air, wordlessly encouraging Trevor. He was anticipating, but still jumped a little at the sting of pain on his butt cheek. He relaxed, almost hanging from the cuffs, and seconds later, another sting of pain blossomed on his other cheek. Trevor must have decided to continue with the experiment, because blows continued, if a little hesitantly.

Harvey usually warmed Mike up first with his hand, so the strikes from the crop seemed more painful than usual to begin with. Mike didn't want to scare Trevor off, so only allowed small grunts and _ahs_ to escape him at first. He thought he had failed when the blows stopped, but then squealed in surprise as Trevor reached underneath him to tug on the nipple clamps. He followed that with a few -- too few -- strokes to Mike's cock, and then started in again with the crop.

This time, there was no hesitancy to his strikes. They traveled up to his back, and down to the back of his thighs, but remained primarily aimed at the meat of his butt. They came steadily and evenly paced, as if Trevor had medium tempo dance music playing inside his head.

Finally, Mike stopped worrying about what Trevor was thinking or feeling, and just gave himself up to the pain. He gasped and cried out and yanked on the cuffs. And then he started to fly, and he knew he was crying, head up and tears tracking down his cheeks. The blows fell a half dozen times more and then halted. He could hear Trevor behind him, breathing heavily.

"What now?" Trevor asked, voice shaking.

It took a few tries for Mike to find his voice. "Now you fuck me," he slurred. "Take the plug out. Play with the clamps some more. But mostly fuck me. Hard and fast."

He felt the plug come out, and heard the sounds of Trevor preparing himself with condom and lube. He gave a cry of pure, blissed out relief when Trevor slid into him, thick and hot. Without pausing, he began pumping in and out. One hand came underneath Mike to stroke his cock. His other arm wrapped around Mike's chest, hand tweaking and plucking his nipples.

"P-pull," Mike stuttered. "Pull them off one at a time. Fast."

Trevor pulled off the first nipple clamp, never slowing his thrusts. The blood rushed back into Mike's nipple and he howled as the pain hit. Trevor repeated the process with the other clamp. After that he rode Mike with gusto, periodically stroking him, until Mike felt like he might go insane if he didn't get his release. "Y-you have to... you have to give me permission," he managed to get out.

Trevor was so focused on nailing Mike's ass, and hitting his prostate with unerring accuracy, that he seemed not to have heard him at first. Then, "what, baby?" he asked, sounding distracted.

Mike dragged in a deep, gasping breath. "Please," he whispered. "Need to come. P-please."

"Oh, fuck yes. Come for me. Now." He jacked Mike off harder, and seconds later Mike arched back and exploded, screaming with the intensity of it. Trevor buried himself deep inside Mike and wrapped his arms around him, shaking and shuddering and cursing as he followed Mike over the edge.

 

******

 

Harvey could hear Mike's screams from the hallway. His key paused on its way to the doorknob, and then he continued smoothly, opening the door and entering the apartment. He took a moment to set down the containers of takeout on the kitchen counter, and to remove his jacket and tie. Rolling up his sleeves, he strolled into the bedroom and froze.

Mike was on his knees, cuffed to the headboard, arms spread wide. Trevor, from what Harvey could see, was still buried deep inside of him, head against Mike's sweaty back, arms wrapped tightly around him. Harvey's favorite butt plug lay on the floor, and he spotted the gleam of platinum nipple clamps on top of the comforter, next to his riding crop.

Harvey's first instinct was to quietly turn and leave them alone. His second was to pull out his phone and snap a few pictures, because despite the involuntary clench of jealousy in his belly, it was a beautiful tableau. He ignored both instincts, took several calming breaths and moved closer to the bed.

"You should uncuff him now," he stated, and had to fight down a smile at how both of their heads lifted and whipped around at the sound of his voice. "His arms are starting to shake," he told Trevor. "Release him and hold him close while he comes down."

Trevor cleared his throat. "Comes down?" He didn't wait for a response from Harvey, but leaned in and started unbuckling the leather cuffs.

"Endorphins," Harvey clarified.

"I'm in it for the dolphins," Mike murmured, slurring his words in the way that Harvey always found so endearing.

Trevor appeared flummoxed as he held the cuffs and stared down at Mike. "The fuck?"

Harvey extended his arm and Trevor handed him the cuffs. "Get used to it. Sometimes he throws out movie references when he gets like this." His thumbs stroked the inside of the cuffs, feeling the residual heat from Mike's wrists. "I've got dinner. Give him about fifteen minutes to pull himself together. Then clean up in here, take a quick shower if you want, and come join me. Mike will explain how to sterilize that." He nodded down at the butt plug on the floor. He started to leave, but thought of something else. He opened the drawer on the nightstand and removed a tube of cream, which he tossed onto the bed. "Put some of this on Mike's back and ass. Looks like you marked him up pretty good."

Finally, he turned and left the room. Back in the kitchen, he fought down his jealousy and the instinctual imperative to return to the bedroom and take care of Mike himself. The liquor cabinet beckoned, but he fought down that urge as well, aware that he needed to retain firm control of his emotions right now.

Just that morning, he'd given Mike his blessing to be with Trevor without him. He didn't know what he'd expected, perhaps that they would engage in the vanilla style of sex they'd had back when they'd been together before. It was something of a shock to discover that they'd made so free with his toys. It wasn't that he disapproved on principle, it was simply that he'd envisioned himself as the teacher, initiating Trevor into the ways of domination, training him, working in tandem to give Mike what he needed.

He set out plates and silverware on the breakfast bar, and fixed a tall glass of ice water for each of them. Trevor's initiative was an interesting development. However, it seemed that Mike had broken one of Harvey's rules, and he would have to punish him for that.

 

Mike and Trevor finally made their appearance. Mike had dressed in his customary pajama pants and t-shirt, while Trevor had opted for jeans, t-shirt and socks. Harvey had started without them. He nodded toward the cartons of Chinese take-out. "Help yourselves. I got all of Mike's favorite dishes. I wasn't sure what you like, Trevor. Let me know for next time."

They each took a seat, and Harvey noted with amusement that Mike shifted uncomfortably when his butt made contact with the stool.

"No," said Trevor, "this looks great." He and Mike filled their plates, passing the cartons back and forth between them.

Harvey watched them shovel food into their mouths, waiting until they'd begun to slow down before he started talking. "To begin with, I'd like you both to confirm that you're onboard with this -- " He moved his finger in a circle to indicate the three of them. "With this threesome business."

"Polyamory," Mike provided, mouth full of moo shu pork.

"Is that what it is?" Harvey asked. "Well, whatever you want to call it. You both want to give it a try, correct?"

Mike swallowed noisily and licked his lips. "It's a definite yes from me."

They both turned to look at Trevor. "Yeah. I'm in."

Harvey hadn't been sure what Trevor would say. He was surprised to feel relief at his response. "And I vote yes, as well, which makes it unanimous." He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a set of three shiny new keys, and slid them across the counter to Trevor. "These are for you. Building key, mailbox key and front door key."

Trevor didn't look surprised, which meant Mike had already told him. He did, however, appear hesitant and somewhat taken aback. "Harvey," he began, and had to stop and take a long drink of ice water. "You're nuts, you know, for doing this. I don't have the most reassuring history...."

"Hey," Mike piped up, "he gave me his American Express card when he barely knew me."

"No shit?"

"My theory is, his ego is so enormous he believes no one would dare to fuck with him." He cut his eyes to Harvey and immediately dropped them to the counter. "I mean that in the best possible way, of course."

Harvey allowed himself a small laugh. "Since you already have punishment coming, I'd watch it if I were you."

Mike's brows lowered. "Punishment?"

"That's right. See if you can figure out what for."

"Oh, he knows," Trevor said, voice filled with glee.

"Traitor," Mike stage-whispered.

Harvey shook his head at the two of them. "I'll give you time to recover from the walloping Trevor gave you. Speaking of which, although I don't object to the two of you playing together when I'm not here, I'd prefer to be on hand to instruct Trevor in some of the...finer points."

"Hey," Trevor objected, "we did okay."

"Yeah, we did," added Mike. "And it was great. You were great, Trevor. But I think Harvey's right. It was exhausting having to explain everything to you, and it made it difficult to get into my happy headspace."

Trevor looked between Mike and Harvey and then shrugged. "Fine. I will become your student, Sensei."

"And you'll move in here? Like, right away?" Mike looked so happy and eager that Harvey's heart seemed to expand a little.

Trevor chewed on his lip, seeming to weigh the pros and cons. "If you're really sure? Okay, then yeah. I'll bring more stuff tomorrow, and move everything else this weekend. There isn't much. The room I'm renting is furnished, so all the furniture stays there. Fair warning, though: my work days start early, so I may have to pass on some of the marathon, all night fuck fests."

Mike was grinning so hard, it had to be hurting his face. "Don't worry. We haven't had one of those for...weeks."

"Moving on," Harvey said. "While we're on the subject of changes and the future, Mike, I am going to insist on something from you."

Mike's grin faltered. "Uh oh."

"No. Not uh oh. Trevor pointed out the other day, and quite rightly, that I've been remiss with you, sweetheart. So right now, I'm going to insist that you fill out that application to Columbia and submit it before the end of the week. You may apply for scholarships if you wish to, but beyond that, any and all tuition and expenses will be paid for by me."

"Harvey, I don't think...."

Harvey put on his sternest look. "Starting right now, I'm taking charge of you, Mike. You may not like it, but it's what you need. You submit so beautifully in the bedroom. I'd like to make it a full time arrangement. And I'd like Trevor to be my ally and partner in this. Mike? Do you need some time to think about it?"

Mike stared down at the disarray of empty cartons and dirty plates in front of him. "So...I'd be your boy? And you'd be like my master? Two masters?"

"Your Doms, yes." Harvey glanced at Trevor, who was watching Mike with an anxious expression.

"And two of you. All day. Every day. Wow." He looked up, first at Trevor, then at Harvey. His eyes were crystal blue with unshed tears. "And you'd take care of me? Like...like a family?"

"Yes, baby," Trevor breathed, at the same time Harvey said, "Exactly like one."

The smile was back on Mike's face, and to Harvey, it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Mike slid off of his stool and sank gracefully to his knees. For a moment, he seemed incapable of speech, his chest heaving in and out.   "Yes," he whispered, looking from one to the other of them. "I agree. If you both really want me like that, I'll do it." He wiped a hand across his cheeks, capturing the tears that had escaped. "You'll have to teach me, because I'm going to make mistakes. I know I can be a handful. But I want this. I really do."

Harvey met Trevor's eyes over the top of Mike's head. Trevor gave a short nod, communicating wordlessly his understanding of the gravity of the moment.

"Good," said Harvey. "That's...good."  

 

**Epilogue**

 

**Eight Months Later**

 

Mike typed the last word, the final period, saved the document and closed his laptop, giving a slow exhale of pure relief. His first ever college term paper – in his first ever college history class – was... _history._ Now he’d let it sit overnight before proofreading and emailing it to his professor – or rather her teaching assistant. Pushing back from the compact desk in the corner of what used to be the spare bedroom, he took a moment to stretch his back and then slumped and stared at the wall in front of him.

Through the open door, wonderful, complex smells drifted, along with the sounds of Trevor humming and occasionally erupting in a burst of off-key lyrics. He preferred to cook with music playing, but must have had his ear buds in, which he always did when he knew that Mike was studying. Mike suspected that he didn’t realize that his sporadic squawks and unmusical whines were far more distracting than the music would have been. He wasn’t complaining, though. Hearing Trevor, and knowing he was there and would always be there, made it more than bearable.

He stood up and turned around, letting one hand trail over the custom made pieces of equipment that had been slowly filling the room up over the past months – sling, spanking bench, cross. Built-in shelves held Harvey and Trevor’s floggers and paddles and clamps and all the other tools they liked to use on Mike. Mike smiled as he left the play room, undressing as he went. Inside their bedroom, he stripped the rest of the way and dropped his clothes in the hamper.

He went to the dresser and picked up his collar, thumbs smoothing over the soft leather. From the front of the collar hung a platinum charm of an “H” and a “T” and an “M,” all interlocking, and forming a heart in the middle. Trevor had designed it, and it still made Mike smile, that streak of mushy sentimentality inside of Trevor that had been more and more on display over the past months.

Mike fastened the collar around his neck, and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment as the familiar feeling of peace and belonging settled over him.

He enjoyed his classes at Columbia, but this is what he lived for.

He padded out to the living room and sank down to his knees just outside the kitchen, sitting back on his heels. He waited for Trevor to turn and catch sight of him. When he did, spatula raised in one hand and frying pan in the other, his face broke into a grin. He set the pan back on the stove and rested the spatula against it and then yanked the ear buds out. “All finished?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s my boy.” Trevor petted his hair and Mike leaned against his hip, practically purring. Then Trevor dropped a quick kiss on the top of his head. “Here. Try this and tell me what you think.”

Mike looked up to see a spoon hovering near his lips, heaped with some kind of mixture of rice and vegetables. He obediently opened his mouth and Trevor fed him the spoonful. Flavors exploded on his tongue and his eyes widened as he chewed and swallowed. “Wow. Almonds? Saffron? And…honey?”

“Close, but I’m not telling. You’ll have to watch the show.”

Mike was glad he’d already swallowed, or he would have choked on the mouthful. “You’re in? It’s official?” He hoped he successfully hid the anxiety this stirred up inside of him along with the pride.

“Yep. In six weeks I’m going to be a TV star.”

“And America’s Next Celebrity Chef.”

“Well.” Trevor shrugged, but couldn’t hide his smile. “I’ll give it my best shot. And if my cooking doesn’t win it for me, I’ll give the audience enough drama to make people sit up and take notice. One way or the other, I’m getting my tuition.”

“I don't know why you're so stubborn. Harvey would gladly pay. But your cooking is amazing. Everyone will see that.”

“Thanks, baby.” Trevor ruffled Mike’s hair again before returning to the stove to put the finishing touches on dinner.

“Does Artie know?”

Trevor laughed. “He says he’s having half a dozen _Torreccino’s_ t-shirts made for me to wear on the show.” He shook his head fondly. “Hey, have you heard anything from Harvey?”

“No, but he promised to be home before seven.” He felt a twinge of hurt in his heart as he said the words. With all the problems at his firm, Harvey had broken his promises too often lately. Mike did his best to understand things from Harvey’s perspective, to make things easier for him when he was home, but when he was away – when either one of Mike’s Doms were out in the world without him – it made him uneasy. Soon, Trevor would be gone for several weeks filming the reality show (in New York, thankfully), and Mike could only hope that after the vote today, things would settle down for Harvey.

"Good, because I've got something incredible planned for dessert."

Mike gave a mock groan. "You're killing us with all the sweets. It's a good thing I ride my bike to school, or I'd have to join you and Harvey at the gym more often."

Trevor shook his head. "I love your body, but you could still stand to put on a few more pounds."

It was a well-worn argument, and Mike shrugged and sloughed it off like he always did. He knelt and watched Trevor move around the kitchen, enjoying the energetic, semi-choreographed nature of his movements. After several minutes, Trevor paused and gave him a stern look. "If you plan to stay there for a while, get yourself a pillow."

"Yes sir." Mike stood and went to grab a pillow from the couch, which he placed near the kitchen before he knelt once more. As he watched his Dom do what he loved to do, Mike reflected dreamily on the past months together, with its ups and downs and arguments and concessions and forgiveness. He'd never said it out loud to Harvey or Trevor, but he'd had some doubts about the relationship, doubts that it would prove too overwhelming for him, that he wouldn't be good enough, wouldn't be _enough_ period for the strong personalities of the two other men.

Two weeks into the new arrangement, he'd had to use his safe word, not during a scene, but during a dinner conversation where he'd felt ignored and condescended to. He had to get out of the apartment, get some distance, and had ridden his bike aimlessly for a couple of hours to get his head on straight and gain some perspective. When he returned, he'd laid down a few rules of his own: no acting as if he was invisible, no ganging up on him, unless it was...the good sort of ganging up, and only one of them could be in charge of his punishments.

"Switch off, if you want to. Make a schedule, whatever. But if you're both tallying up my transgressions separately, I'll never be able to sit down again." In the end, Trevor was just as happy to hand over that responsibility to Harvey, and they both agreed to treat Mike with more respect. From that point on, things went more smoothly.

These days, he didn't mind so much when they ignored him. He liked going quiet inside himself. He'd even asked to be gagged all day a couple of times to help take him down to where he needed to be.

Now, kneeling on the floor, he drifted, listening to Trevor work. When Harvey got home -- hopefully in time for them all to eat together -- Mike would set the table and serve the food, and afterwards, Mike would be in charge of cleanup. This too, had bothered him at first, had made him feel too much the slave, but he'd worked on that too, constantly reminding himself that he belonged to them, and that this was one relatively easy way to serve them.

He heard the key in the front door, and jerked upright, having nearly fallen asleep. He climbed to his feet and went to meet Harvey, helping him off with his jacket and tie, and then kneeling to remove his shoes.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Harvey said, smoothing a hand over the top of Mike's head. "Is your homework finished?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's my good boy."

"I hope you're hungry," Trevor called from the kitchen. "I made something special for dinner."

Harvey ran a hand down the side of Mike's face, his expression tender. "Go put my things in the bedroom, sweetheart, then come back to the kitchen. I have something to tell you both."

Mike nodded and stood, gathering up jacket, tie and shoes, and took them to the bedroom. He carefully hung up the jacket and tie, and used a soft cloth to buff the shoes back to shining perfection. When he got back to the kitchen, he halted in surprise. Harvey and Trevor were pulling apart from an embrace and kiss, and a bottle of champagne sat on the counter along with two flutes.

Mike knew, then, but said nothing. Harvey should be the one to break the news. He knelt back down on the pillow, and gazed up at Harvey, heart bursting with pride. Trevor made himself busy popping the cork on the champagne and pouring it into the glasses. He and Harvey raised their glasses in the air.

"The partners voted," Harvey began.

"And they didn't vote you off the island?" Trevor interjected, grinning.

"No, baby, they did not. I am the newest named partner at Pearson Specter. So...." He gestured with his glass. "To me."

Harvey and Trevor drank, and then Harvey lowered his glass and set it against Mike's lower lip. He opened his mouth and drank from Harvey's glass, meeting Trevor's gaze as he did so. The shadows that had lingered there for months, even after he had otherwise seemed happy, were gone. Mike smiled up at him, and accepted a drink from his glass as well.

"Congratulations...Master." Mike still felt shy about using that word, but it was starting to come more naturally to his lips. "You deserve it."

"Yes, I do." A huge smile split Harvey's face.

Trevor kissed Harvey's cheek. "That's awesome." He cleared his throat. "And not to steal your thunder or anything, but I've got some news of my own."

Still smiling, Harvey's eyebrows shot up. "You got the show?"

"Yup."

They embraced again, thumping one another's backs.

"Um," said Mike. "I finished my history paper."

"That deserves a drink," said Trevor. He took a sip, and gave one to Mike.

"And," said Harvey, "I'm sure it's spectacular." He shared a drink with Mike.

"You two are trying to get me drunk, aren't you?" Not that Mike minded.

"Maybe a little bit," Harvey grinned. He set his glass down, hauled Mike to his feet and pulled him against him, hands cradling his bottom. "But not right now. Right now I want to take you...." He reached behind Mike to grab Trevor's hand. "...and you, and celebrate all of our successes in the best way I can think of."

"Fine," said Trevor. Mike craned his neck back to see him. He was pretending to frown, but not doing a very good job of it. "I suppose dinner can wait."

"Good, because I bought something for Mike on the way home that you're both going to love."

"Yay," said Mike, following after Harvey, who was dragging him by the arm towards the play room. "A new toy. What is it?"

"Nope. You know better than that."

He did, but he couldn't help teasing Harvey sometimes.

"Get him up on the sling," Harvey told Trevor.

 

******

"You're doing great, baby. Just one more. Can you take one more for me?"

Trevor loved watching the way Harvey handled Mike. He didn't know if he would ever reach the point where he could be so patient and gentle, but he was trying. And there were enough times where Harvey gave himself up to Trevor, and then he didn't need to be gentle at all.

Right now, though, Harvey had Mike up on the sling, stuffed full of anal beads. From where he stood, Trevor could see Mike's hole stretched impossibly wide. Mike's hair and face were damp with sweat. "Aauugghh," Mike groaned, panting. His fists clenched uselessly where they were bound above him. Trevor reached out to hold his ankle in a gentle grasp, knowing he needed an anchoring touch with the blindfold cutting off his sight. "Yeah. Yes sir. P-please."

Harvey rubbed Mike's stomach and stroked his hard and leaking cock. "So beautiful for us," he whispered, and pushed the final, fattest bead into Mike's rectum. Now only the ring at the end was visible. "Such a good boy." He kissed the inside of Mike's thigh, gave a few tugs to the chain connecting Mike's new nipple rings, and then moved out of the way, gesturing to Trevor. The sling moved gently as they switched places. "You jack him off, and I'll take them out."

After coating his hand with lube, Trevor circled Mike's cock with his palm and began stroking up and down. Mike squirmed and arched a little, grunting softly and then whining. "Ohgod. Please."

Harvey toyed with the ring at the end of the string of beads, pulling it just enough to stimulate the nerve endings inside of their boy. "Come on, Mikey," Trevor whispered, speeding up his movements, adding a twist of the wrist. "How's that feel?"

"So good. Please, sirs. May I please come?"

Trevor exchanged a look with Harvey, who nodded his assent. Trevor paused, leaning in to fuck his tongue in and out of Mike's slit. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harvey working his index finger into Mike's rectum next to the beads. Trevor licked a stripe up the underside of Mike's cock, paid special attention to the nerves just under the head, and then went back to jacking him off, the combination of ample lube and speed making an obscene smacking sound. When he felt the tension build in Mike, saw his back arching, he slanted another quick look at Harvey and said, "Now, Mike. Come for us now."

Mike's back bent like a bow and he screamed out his release. As he began to shoot, Harvey steadily pulled the string of beads out, and Mike went crazy, shuddering and sobbing at the overwhelming sensations. Harvey tossed the beads onto a towel he had placed on a low table and moved to Mike's head. He held him close, petting him and whispering to him how good and perfect he was. He nodded once at Trevor, and they worked together to get him down from the sling and carry him to the bedroom.

Harvey removed the blindfold and held Mike close while Trevor cleaned him up with a damp cloth. Although focused on Mike, Harvey still spared a few meaningful, heated looks for Trevor, who smiled hungrily back at him, knowing that he would be inside Harvey within the hour.

For now, though, it was enough to lie together on the bed, all three of them, quiescent and connected. Right at that moment, his future -- all of their futures -- seemed limitless and amazing. He put his head next to Mike's. _We made it, Mikey._ And almost as if Mike heard his thoughts, he opened his eyes and smiled.

 

**The End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading!


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